


Bloodline Legacies

by sarhea



Category: Batman: The Animated Series, DCU Animated, Harry Potter - Fandom, Justice League & Justice League Unlimited (Cartoons)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Community: hermionebigbang, Crossover, Drama, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Romance, Sexual Content, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-21
Updated: 2012-07-21
Packaged: 2017-11-10 10:30:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 55,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/465275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarhea/pseuds/sarhea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione discovers she is Heir to a magical legacy with its gifts and burdens including a Pact Alliance and a Curse of Misfortune. To break the curse she must find the other party involved and work with him. Along the way she takes a few risks, discovers a few secrets, and makes a few choices.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. First Meetings

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers: Post B7 DH, EWE. More of an AU for Batman TAS, a few Nolan movies and comic references.  
> Warnings: for violence and some graphically intimate scenes  
> Beta: black_coffee13 a.k.a. Jo  
> For: LJ community hgbigbang – Hermione Big Bang 2011/2  
> Author Notes: The original inspiration for this fanfic came from art created for the first round of Hermione Big Bang 2009. However the plot became too involved to be finished before the deadline, so I tabled it in my massive folder of WIPs. When I saw the promotion for Hermione Big Bang I decided to finish this as one of my contributions.  
> AN: No prequel/sequel or filler chapters forthcoming.  
> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter & co, JK Rowling does. Neither do I own Batman and assorted characters/concepts, DC comics and Warner Bros do. I'm simply playing with the characters and 'verses.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione Granger discovers she has a past no one ever suspected. This leads to her introduction to an American billionaire playboy.

Snarlfang stared at the witch signing the last of the documents and contracts piled on the table before her. It had been a shock when she had first approached Gringotts with the proper documents granting her full Power of Attorney over the affairs of Harry Potter. The wizard in question had been in Gringotts black books over the break in and his ill considered actions that resulted in heavy damage to Gringotts London. The only reason why a good chunk of his personal vaults were not confiscated in penalty fees was this young witch, Hermione Granger. Just two weeks after Voldemort was defeated and most of his more well-known public supporters tracked and jailed, Hermione Granger had approached Gringotts with a formal apology and an earnest desire to make amends for the damage they had caused when they broke into the Lestrange vault and escaped.

He did not sigh out loud but he would miss working with the Muggleborn. She had better manners than most other witches and wizards. She also made a genuine effort to learn and practice goblin ways. And she was quite willing to listen and use financial advice from goblins; she didn't dismiss it as foolish simply because it came from a goblin. It was a pity none of their Upper-Metal ranked clients did not even approach her level of knowledge, skill, and power.

The Ministry was full of fools who could not look beyond a single title. He snorted softly. Five hundred years ago the ancestors of most of those fools would have been in the same position as Mistress Granger. She had strong allies, including those with influence like Harry Potter, but to have real leverage she needed a blood tie. It was a pity she had no wizarding ancestors…

Snarlfang sat up straight in his unpadded ironwood chair, a germ of an idea quickening in his mind.

"Mistress Granger."

Pale brown eyes lifted from the parchment. "Yes Master Snarlfang?"

"How much do you know about your ancestors?"

Hermione frowned at the unexpected question and thought hard. "Not a lot. My parents were only children and my grand parents on both sides are dead. I have a few second cousins who live in America and Canada."

"And what about your great-grand parents? Your ancestors three hundred years back? Distant cousins or great-aunts?"

Hermione laughed softly. "Master Snarlfang, genealogy is hit-and-miss affair for Muggles. A lot of old records have to be tracked down and examined by historians and experts to preserve the fragile media. Only wealthy and aristocracy try going that far back." She tapped her cheek with one finger. "Mum was interested in having an in-depth genealogical investigation into the family background done. She had planned on doing it herself after she and dad retired. They wanted to travel and do some of the research themselves you see. But now that they are living in Australia I'm not sure if they are still interested, especially with all that has happened in Britain."

"Miss Granger, have you ever wondered what happened to the squibs born into pureblood wizarding households?"

Old anger ignited in pale brown eyes. "I have often asked myself that same question Master Snarlfang but no one will give me a definite answer. I know some would find menial positions in the wizarding world like Argus Filch but it doesn't explain what a family like the Malfoy's or the Black's would do to a squib child."

Snarlfang smiled, an expression filled with snaggle-tooth canines.

"The most rigid families would kill such children. Some would send them away to isolated estates where they would die from malnutrition or exposure. Most would abandon them in the non-magical world. Very few would keep a child who doesn't show any signs of magic past the age of eight years. There are no comprehensive child-protection laws as there are in the Muggle world. Children and Heirs are a family concern and no wizard would interfere in the private matters of another family."

Hermione went very still. Snarlfang watched and was pleased when she did not allow her temper to run free.

"Quite a few of the abandoned children grew up in the non-magical world, married worked and raised families who did the same. Some remember and pass the knowledge of magic and the enclaves but most prefer to forget and deny the magical family who had cast them out." He eyed her sharply. "Lily Evans was one. She had two squib ancestors from the Rosier family. At the time she found out, Voldemort was a real threat, so she did not mention it to anyone as far as I can determine."

Hermione chuckled softly. "So I might have had a distant magical ancestor. I don't see why it would affect me. I mean the connection is so thin! It would be like a fifth or sixth cousin relationship."

"If you have any living magical relatives Mistress Granger," Snarlfang pointed out bluntly. "Whole families and lineages were wiped out in the Grindelwald War, then the First and Second Voldemort Wars. There are vaults and estates that lie in-trust and unclaimed even now. Many Ministers of Magic have tried to secure ownership and failed. Gringotts will only release the holdings to a blood relative who makes a claim. And of course certain families have additional conditions that have barred other families from laying claim. I know many have tried. Especially the Malfoy's."

Hermione went very still. Then she spoke slowly and carefully. "How would one determine if he or she has the right to lay claim for one of these in-trust vaults?"

Snarlfang smiled slowly showing all his teeth. "The witch or wizard in question would have to pay a one-time processing fee of two hundred galleons. If there are any magical ancestors Gringotts will prepare a family tree going back three hundred years on parchment charmed to be indestructible. Any non-magical relatives will show only to the fourth-degree. The family tree is part of the processing fee. If there are any unclaimed vaults you will be given an accounting of assets and liabilities. It is your choice to sign the papers laying claim. The papers will be filed with the Ministry and after two days, ownership will be fully transferred."

Hermione thought hard. She did not see any real downside. It wasn't like she was repossessing anything. And as far as she knew she was the only witch or wizard in her extended still-living family. The fee was a little steep but Harry was more than generous in the salary he paid her to look after the Potter and Black Estates. And, since she had withdrawn from active field duty, she needed a new project to occupy her downtime until she resumed her research position in the Department of Mysteries.

"Master Snarlfang, I would like to request a lineage search among the unclaimed vaults. You can take the processing fee out of my personal vault."

This time the smile was a tad less feral.

"If Lady Fortune smiles this will be a most profitable transaction."

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

Harry Potter smiled as he watched a small curvy figure clad in sapphire blue robes over a black calf-length dress make her way between the tables ignoring the obsequious maitre d' and the hushed whispers and finger pointing of the other diners. Hermione Granger had come a long way from the overly eager eleven-year-old who desperately wanted to please everyone. Her expression was cool, faintly disdainful; very reminiscent of Narcissa Malfoy. Harry definitely enjoyed watching wizards and witches make futile attempts at interception or conversation.

Wizarding society had ignored and dismissed Hermione: first as a Muggle-born; then as a witch only good for memorizing and regurgitating facts; then as a fool for siding with the delusional Boy-Who-Lived; then as a non-entity hanger-on who's only worth was in the influential contacts she had. They were all wrong. Hermione was worth a hundred, no a thousand, of any inbred, pureblood scion. She had proven herself time and time again in some of the most difficult and demanding fields, working first as an Advocate, a prosecuting barrister for the MLE, then as an Unspeakable, most recently as a Hit Witch for the ICW on Harry's own Team Seven. Now she had the wealth and influence of a magical lineage backing her.

He grinned as he stood up and held the chair out for her before sitting down himself.

"Do you wish to order now or later?"

Hermione glanced at her dining companion. "Why don't you order for me?"

Harry glanced at the menu and gave the selection to the maitre d'. Once he left, Harry touched the quartz crystal centrepiece. The crystal glowed softly indicating the artefact enchantment was active.

"No one can hear us and we are surrounded by a masking haze." Harry explained. "I like to use this restaurant for more sensitive meetings that require a neutral ground."

Hermione smiled. "Thank you for that tidbit. Is the food any good?" She poured herself a glass of ruby liquid from one of three different carafes.

"Oh yes. Their chef makes a wonderful lobster plate. Their seafood is Portkeyed from various Mediterranean ports twice a week." Harry grinned. "I highly recommend their calamari and shrimp pasta." Then he cocked his head. "But enough about me, how are things going for Hermione Granger, the McInnes Heiress?"

Hermione took a sip of her pomegranate-flavoured water and made a face before answering in sober tones.

"I've made a decision. I'm never, ever, going to get back with Ron."

Harry frowned. He knew things had been rough between Hermione and Ron, but he had always imagined they would pull through. It was the usual way of things, Ron would throw a fit and sulk for a few weeks making everyone miserable, and when he got his head on straight he'd apologize and Hermione would forgive him. They had gone through rough patches before but Ron had taken it especially hard when Hermione had announced her status as Heiress to a very prestigious and wealthy wizarding name.

"Is something different this time? I mean Ron is usually an arse but-."

"I went to the Burrow to see if I could talk some sense into Ron. I heard him and Molly talking." Hermione interrupted in an almost detached manner. "Molly was trying to get him to apologize." She failed to control the tremor in her voice. "Molly knew I was in line for the McInnes fortune. The Prewetts had tried to lay claim to it a few decades ago and failed due to some of the requirements. Bill saw a few names in the files and mentioned them casually to Molly. She used the information to start looking for an heir. My maternal great-grandmother was born Kathleen MacInnes. She knew since Fifth year, that's why she did an about face and started pushing Ron and me together. She wanted us to get married before 'suggesting' I do an Inheritance Test.

"Remember when Ron and I nearly broke up when I became an Unspeakable? We only got back together because Molly kept pushing us together. When I started Hit Witch training, she threw a fuss about it being unladylike and dangerous; she only stopped when I made it clear I'd rather break up with Ron than quit. All these years she has been sighing and huffing and guilt-tripping me. If I were like most witches I would've agreed to marry Ron just to get her to stop! She never really liked me Harry; do you remember? She called me a scarlet hussy and believed those lies Rita Skeeter wrote about us during the Tri-Wizard Tournament."

Harry bit his lower lip hard. "I remember." He did not say anything. Molly Weasley was the primary reason why he had broken up with Ginny. She had pushed the two of them to settle down and marry just weeks after Voldemort had been defeated but Harry had been unwilling. He had fought too hard, undergone so much stress and loss; he had wanted time and privacy to heal. But Ginny had been unwilling to wait. The mother and daughter reminded Harry too much of Petunia Dursley in their tactics so he had retreated into his Auror and Hit Wizard training after giving Hermione permission to look after his financial affairs since, at the time, she had more stable and regular hours working as an Advocate in the MLE.

Hermione blinked back tears. "Well, I definitely don't trust Ron or Molly. And Ginny is most definitely in my black books for how she treated you. I don't know about the other Weasley's, but I plan on avoiding them in the near future."

Harry smiled wryly. "That is a perfectly acceptable strategy. I've been using it myself for the past few years. But to be honest, George and Bill are okay. Arthur has a tendency to go with whatever Molly says, Charlie is out of the country and there is nothing to say about Percy."

Both of them laughed at the memories evoked by the middle-son, the Ministry sycophant.

There were a few minutes of silence while they were served their meals.

After starting on the appetizers, Harry decided to try to change the topic.

"Have you made any plans on what you're going to do? I mean you have loads of money and several houses with specialized libraries… You can study and research things that interest you. Theoretical stuff and do experiments."

Hermione made a face. "I know. I've had more than a hundred offers of apprenticeship including ones from most of the Hogwarts instructors: McGonagall; Flitwick; Slughorn; Vector and Babbling. Quite a few well-known masters from Asia and Africa…" She smiled faintly. "If this happened even a year ago I would have made a fool of myself."

"And now?"

"Now, I don't want to accept any of their offers."

"Why?"

"They will want the right to use the McInnes Libraries and Research Vaults. As an apprentice, I would be subjected to their orders; but as Heiress, I cannot allow outsiders access to the McInnes Family Grimoires and spell research."

"McGonagall won't make you do something you don't want to!"

Hermiones expression was sceptical. "Wouldn't she? Are you so certain of that Harry?" Hermione shook her head. "No, I cannot risk it. Some of the research and information in the vaults are quite sensitive and dangerous." Her expression was very serious. "There are some old volumes containing notes on horcrux and soul magics Harry. I am so tempted to destroy it but at the same time I'm reluctant to take that step. At some point in the future that information might be crucial to my descendants and the wizarding world. I have to protect it."

Harry was disturbed. "Are you sure the libraries are truly secure? No lunatic can break in and steal the relics?"

"Much safer than Hogwarts." Hermione assured her best friend. "The two primary estates are Unplottable, Blood Warded, and very secure with multi-level protection tiers. The really dangerous volumes are not out in the open but in hidden libraries only accessible to the Head, Consort and Heir."

Harry nodded. He could see the benefits in having a dangerous library hidden in a place like the Chamber of Secrets or a bloodline-locked Room of Requirements.

"So are you going to do something like independent studies and challenge the Mastery Examination Board?" Harry asked.

Hermione beamed. "You read my mind Harry!"

Harry smirked. Hermione would not be Hermione if she wasn't studying something. Then something else hit him. "Did you find out anything about your family? I spent months in Potter Manor talking to the portraits of my ancestors and learning about wizarding culture and laws. Things they never bothered to teach us in Hogwarts. I never would have learned so much about my family if you didn't find Potter Manor Hermione."

Hermione blushed. "I just found the deed and ward schematics in the vault. From there it was simple enough to hire a Gringotts team to make a small crack that would allow a family member to enter the Manor."

"Yeah. Great-grandfather Charlus Potter taught me how to use the Family Grimoire to modify the wards to add specific people to the guest list. Have you found anything like that? I'm sure your family has a portrait gallery somewhere."

"Actually they do. I haven't had time to really dig into the research libraries because I've been spending more time learning the family history from the portraits and protocols in the family Grimoire. Erin, Leda and Tiberius are very helpful and patient."

Harry sat up straight. There was something in her voice. "Did you find out something… dangerous?" He asked hesitantly.

"It could be." She admitted.

They waited while the soup dishes were taken away and the main course meal served. After a few mouthfuls of seafood pasta in tomato sauce Harry could not restrain his curiosity to know.

"What did you find out?"

Hermione dipped a morsel of lobster in butter and chewed thoroughly before answering.

"The McInnes family was not always wealthy like the Malfoy's. Each son and daughter would be given a generous vault to finance their private research and careers. They did not make any real effort to concentrate the wealth by having a single male heir. They tended to be intellectuals and innovators making money through patents and royalties. It was only in the last hundred or so years that most of the cadet magical branches were wiped out because they refused to join and support the Dark Lord of the time. The vaults and knowledge of each wiped out family reverted back to the primary main line.

"The head family became wealthy but the last Head, Edwin McInnes, was concerned the bloodline was in danger of being wiped out completely due to the political games being played and ideological wars being fought. McInnes is a Grey family like Greengrass, Davis, Smith, Zabini, McDougall and a few others. We do not support the Light or the Dark but stand in the middle. For good there is evil, for love there is hate, with joy comes sorrow, night follows the day, spring is preceded by winter. There are some things that are Unnatural, true Black magics, however we strongly disagree with the Ministry rules on classifying Dark Arts, but that's a whole other story."

Hermione took a swallow of pomegranate juice and water.

"Anyway, Edwin McInnes added a few additional criteria that eliminated most of the cousins who married into wizarding families from laying claim. He specified the next heir had to be three degrees removed from wizarding society; born from one of the squib lines that moved into the Muggle world. Like my great-grandmother Kathleen McInnes. After spending all that time separated from the wizarding world he hoped the next McInnes Head would bring a new perspective free from the usual traditional alliances and bias."

Harrys eyes widened. "Wow! He definitely doesn't sound like a pureblood supporter!"

"McInnes aren't purebloods. There are lots of marriages to Muggles and Muggle-borns even in the head family. The main criteria in choosing spouses are the capacity for intelligence and critical thinking and ethical decision making abilities. Many potential spouses are tested on those criteria by the Head especially if they are marrying the Heir."

Harry nodded slowly. "Okay so your family is a bunch of brainiacs who love studying, debating, and inventing things. What is the big problem?"

Hermione pulled out a thick volume covered in old, faintly-mottled green-grey leather. The front cover was embossed with a symbol made of bronze tarnished with age. It was a five point star suspended in a circle with a second circle cutting through all five arms. There were additional spokes extending from the inner circle to the outer one making the design look like a wheel where each spoke was a branch of thorns. When Hermione opened the volume Harry saw the parchment pages were ancient and yellowed, covered with tiny spiky script that reminded Harry of a certain deceased Potions Master's almost indecipherable scrawl. Harry did not want to even think of how much time Hermione must have spent interpreting the antique script.

One oval nail painted a dusty rose ran over the script, stopping at specific spots before the hand flipped the page. As she scanned the pages Hermione answered Harry's question.

"The McInnes Family originated in the Highlands of Scotland. They had a strained relationship with a neighbouring clan called the Wemyss. During the time of Richard the Lionheart, both Family Heads decided the raiding and skirmishes and killing had to stop so they formed a pact using Blood Magics; old, dangerous, illegal today, and impossible to break because the Pact is anchored in the Blood. Anyone even distantly related to both clans would be bound to the requirements of the Pact.

"The requirement isn't horrible, like killing the first-born son or paying a huge amount as tribute. Every hundred years the alliance between the families is to be renewed by marriage. Arranged marriages were quite common back then so typically a cousin from the cadet branches of both families would be betrothed to each other." Hermione took a sip and swallowed. "The problem is today there are no Wemyss related to the magical line in Britain. The last of the wizarding Wemyss were killed in the Napoleon Wars. Cannons and muskets don't discriminate between Magical and Muggle. As Head of the McInnes Family I must uphold the pact."

"But how? You said there are no Wemyss witches or wizards!"

Hermione made a face. "But there were daughters Harry! The names would have changed when a daughter married and had a daughter who married in turn." Green eyes widened then narrowed in comprehension. "Yes. I hired Gringotts to do an extended search to locate any descendants of the daughters. Unfortunately all of them are turning out to be dead ends."

Harry shook his head. "Does the Wemyss Heir have to be a witch or wizard?"

"Actually they don't. Thank Merlin the Heads who created the Pact had brains and allowed for squibs and their descendants. They just need to be a relative of the magical line." She rubbed her face. "Unfortunately lot of squibs who left the enclaves moved to the colonies, to start new lives. It is taking a lot of time to look for descendants in North America and Australia as well as Europe."

"Any luck finding them?"

"Actually yes. But none of them have the Wemyss Seal."

"Seal?"

Hermione closed the book and tapped the bronze symbol embossed in the cover. "Non-magical heirs need the Seal to reaffirm the Pact. I've found plenty of potential heirs but none of them have the Seal."

"But it might have been destroyed!"

Hermione shook her head. "Impossible. As long as the Blood Magic powering the Pact holds, the Seals are indestructible. The Blood Magic will only fail if every single descendant of one family is completely wiped out. Tens of thousands of unknowing squibs living all over the planet are killed. Impossible unless there is a global catastrophe."

Harry nodded slowly. "Okay. You are looking for a descendant of the Wemyss Family who has the corresponding Seal. What happens if you cannot find him or her?"

Hermione sank back in her chair. "Then I have a run of real bad luck."

"What do you mean?"

"Part of the Pact is a curse on both families. It literally links the good fortune and best interests of the families together. If the Pact is not renewed both families get a run of really, really bad luck. Great-grandmother Kathleen was widowed three times and only two of her children survived infancy. My maternal grandmother Marian had several miscarriages and my mother lost two siblings in accidents. Mum nearly died twice when she was a teenager. I know she never expected to have children because she was badly scarred internally; as it was, my birth nearly killed her.

"When I was a baby my parents nearly died in a train crash. My parents became very protective of me after I nearly died on a school trip to the Tower when I was eight. I barely escaped being run over twice when I was out biking. They were relieved when my Letter came, because I would be a safer environment away from modern dangers like cars." She made a face. "And you know all what happened to me in Hogwarts; the troll, the basilisk, Dolohov, Bellatrix. I was lucky Dumbledore didn't reveal too much of the incidents to my parents or they would have pulled me out. I had to Obliviate them and send them to Australia because they never would have agreed to let me return into a war zone with our family history for misfortune. But to be honest, I never thought there might have been other reasons for those life threatening events until I found out about the McInnes-Wemyss Pact."

Harry made a face. "What sort of family would be willing to agree to such a thing?"

"Ones who didn't quite trust each other I'm afraid. It was to ensure good behaviour because if a marriage was not made both families would suffer. That Pact exists indefinitely because both families never trusted each other enough for a full merger, the Heads marrying each other." Hermione explained seeing his confusion.

"What happened after the last Wemyss wizard died?"

"There was no immediate rush to look for a Wemyss Heir and renew the Pact. And then Dark Lady Flamera and Grindelwald happened nearly decimating several cadet lines. Edwin McInnes tried to renew the pact betrothing his nephew with a squib niece but Theresa Wemyss eloped with a Muggle. The remaining Wemyss squibs were killed in a dragon pox epidemic."

Harry groaned. "Hermione how do you know the Wemyss Seal is not locked up in some vault or in-trust estate attic somewhere?"

"I was looking through Edwins correspondence and found a letter from Theresa Wemyss a few years after she eloped. She said she eloped because she didn't see any point in a loveless marriage since they could not reaffirm the Pact. The squibs from the Wemyss family had spent weeks looking for the Seal and failed to locate it. A wizarding Wemyss ancestor had most likely given the Seal to a cadet branch, probably one that left Britain since we've already eliminated the ones in Britain. Gringotts is trying to locate that cadet branch for me."

Harry ate a few mouthfuls of pasta before something occurred to him.

"Hermione?"

"Yes Harry?"

"To reaffirm the Pact, a Wemyss marries a McInnes, correct?"

"Yes."

"What are you going to do when you locate the Wemyss descendants with the Seal? Are you going to marry one of them? I mean you are the only magical McInnes and none of the non-magical McInnes would feel any obligation or pressure to fulfill the pact. I mean even Muggle aristocratic families don't sign betrothal contracts for arranged marriages, an ordinary middle-class family who knows nothing of magic would laugh themselves silly if you try to set up an arranged marriage."

Hermione was silent for while she consumed bites of her lobster.

"I don't know Harry. I was hoping to find another alternative to marriage before then."

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

Hermione Granger tapped one polished nail against the leather covered armrest of the reception chairs. She had been very lucky when an appointment was cancelled just when she was about to try other methods on Bruce Wayne's personal assistant. A minor Confundus Charm and the PA was more than happy to put her name down to meet Bruce Wayne after he returned from lunch.

And the bastard was late. Thirty minutes. The fool probably lost track of time, especially if he had a beautiful lunch date. The tabloids were full of them. She glanced at the expensive platinum timepiece around her left wrist and stifled a sigh. For the tenth time she reminded herself just why she was still here waiting. She needed to access to the Wayne Family Archives. Her preliminary research indicated Bruce Wayne loaned a lot of family treasures including first-hand accounts to various institutions and stored more private writings in various locations around Gotham, including Wayne Manor. If Bruce Wayne was reluctant to grant access, she was certain she could dig the information out over a Veritaserum laced meal, Obliviate him, and plan a break in. With any luck, it would not come to that.

She turned her eyes to her Blackberry and started making notations with her light pen stylus. At least she could catch up on some of her reading while she waited for the playboy.

~o~

Bruce Wayne frowned and looked at his Blackberry. His meeting with Councilman Gregory Hill had been cancelled and instead he was supposed to meet Jane McInnes.

"Sandra, did Miss McInnes mention the purpose of this meeting?"

His long-time assistant shook her head. "Just that it is not a business meeting Mr Wayne. She wants to talk with you about doing some historical research on the Wayne family." Seeing her employer's stony expression she quickly expanded. "She is not a biographer or tabloid writer Mr Wayne! She is trying to locate some information on the Wemyss family."

His expression turned surprised. "Wemyss? The Gotham Waynes originated from Scotland and the Wemyss clan." Then he frowned. "What kind of information?"

"She did not share that with me. I believe her research is of a personal nature."

Bruce snorted softly. "If she is looking to claim kinship-."

Sandra Chin made a huffing sound. "Nothing of that sort Mr Wayne! From her wardrobe and accessories she is more than comfortably off." She smiled slyly. "In fact she made a particular call to Liam Heindrich after reading one of the reports in her briefcase. She sounded like she was on good terms with Maggie, Mr Heindrichs assistant."

Bruce scoffed. "That might have been staged for your benefit Sandra."

"Perhaps. She said she wanted to double her interest in Arrowhead Innovations. The McInnes Trust would pay for the units with very generous five year leases on Raven and Serpent. And she invited him to spend a few days in Edinburgh to look over Sibyl."

Bruce went very still. Very few people would link Raven and Serpent with Arrowhead. They were very confidential projects whose fruits (information, know-how and products) were doled out in a very tight manner by Arrowhead Innovations owner Liam Heindrich. Arrowhead did a great deal of in-house research on physics and chemistry, but in the past two years, they had started throwing out new products based on a brand new perspective that completely blasted the competition out of the water such as computer chips three generations ahead and new avenues for viral and cancer research. Even Batman's forays into Arrowheads computers failed to determine the scientists and teams responsible for the new developments. In the company documents, the project divisions were referred to as Anna Rae and Heather Pearl but in discussions with significant investors (such as Bruce) Liam called the projects Raven and Serpent though he refused to provide any details on the scientists responsible for the ground breaking work. In fact ownership was patented to a numbered shell company. Batman hadn't bothered to figure out just who owned them since there were no traces of illicit activity, industrial espionage, or organized crime influencing Arrowhead and it was headquartered in Seattle, the other side of the country.

"Did you find out anything about Jane McInnes?"

"I didn't have a lot of time but Google was very helpful. There were quite a few articles on her when she took control of the McInnes Trust two years ago."

Bruces eyes widened. "You mean she is that McInnes?"

"Oh yes. Her name is Hermione Jane McInnes though she mainly uses her middle name when travelling."

Bruce frowned. "Wayne Companies does have a few ties and partnerships with the McInnes Trust. Mainly investments and material research. I know my great-grandfather set up the arrangement and it was quite profitable. The partnerships were not renewed when Edwin McInnes was killed in the 1940s and the Trust went dormant. There was some difficulty locating an heir."

"Yes. There were some criteria that kept the immediate family from accessing it and eventually she came along and received the keys to a fortune. But to be honest, Miss McInnes has done a good job of it. She's been travelling mainly, evaluating past business partners, to end or form new ties." Sandra grinned broadly. "Lex Luthor had a meeting with her a few weeks ago and it ended very badly for him. I have a few friends in the admin pool that saw the blow up. Apparently she declined his business and personal propositions flat and walked out. There has been nothing in the papers so far since LuthorCorp has been trying to keep things quiet, but if anyone links Jane McInnes to the McInnes Trust…" She trailed off knowingly.

Bruce considered the information. "Are you sure this is not a business meeting?"

"Miss McInnes made it very clear she is here on a personal matter."

Bruce nodded slowly. "Sandra, try to get in touch with Liam. I'd like to talk to him before seeing Miss McInnes."

~o~

"Miss McInnes, Mr Wayne is ready to see you now."

Hermione resisted the urge to make a face. Instead she schooled her expression into a polite mask as she tucked away her printed reports, notebook and Blackberry. Briskly she followed the middle-aged Oriental woman past a large set of double doors into a very modern office furnished with leather, glass and steel with full knee-to-ceiling windows framing a breath-taking view of Gotham's skyline. Firmly, she suppressed the urge to rush over and press her nose against the window; instead she focused on the sole occupant seated at the desk in front of the panoramic skyline.

Bruce Wayne was definitely everything the pictures had promised. His black hair flopped against his forehead in a rather boyish fashion though the rest of him was clearly all man: straight brows above dark, penetrating eyes; strong, defined features that created a very arresting visage and eye-catching profile; thin lips curved in a false smile that made her wonder if he ever felt genuine joy or humour. What else was false about him? Her eyes quickly took in his lean muscular frame clad in an expensive tailored dark grey suit. The way he moved around the table… He knew his body and accommodated for his surroundings without conscious thought. She had heard about his sporting hobbies but the control she glimpsed in him only came from fighting men and women.

She ignored the faint static shock she felt when they shook hands. From his narrowed eyes he felt it as well.

"Thank you for taking the time to meet with me Mister Wayne. I am certain you have other meetings you are running late for, so I will be quick."

Hermione glimpsed a flash of humour in those dark eyes, the thin lips quirking into an apologetic smile.

"You do not have to rush Miss McInnes. Sandra has cleared my calendar for the day. I can talk to Lucius tomorrow but I think you are on a tight schedule given your recent trips." He tilted his head. "You were in Metropolis just a few weeks ago."

Hermione bowed her head, accepting the hint. Apparently, Bruce Wayne had not been running late but doing research. Perhaps he would not be too incompetent or difficult. She smiled apologetically and pulled her briefcase up and set it on the table.

She ignored his sudden stiffness as she pulled out a tablet computer and an antique journal bound in green-grey hide with an embossed bronze design on the cover. She resisted the urge to smile at his suddenly interested expression. She powered up the tablet PC and pushed the journal across the glass topped desk.

"You may examine it Mister Wayne but do not look past the first ten pages; the contents are rather intimate and I do not wish to share them unless your branch of the family is… involved in the… affair."

He cocked his head to one side. "Affair? An old romance gone bad? Is this the diary of a McInnes daughter or son who eloped with a Wemyss?" He spoke teasingly though his eyes were intense. His fingers traced the bronze symbol embossed on the cover absently. Then he winced as one of the thorns drew blood.

Hermione made a face. "If only it were that simple Mister Wayne." She logged in and began opening software to pull up specific files.

"Then tell me."

Hermione wondered why he did not open the journal. Deciding discretion was the better part of valour she turned the tablet PC around and pushed it towards him.

He blinked and accepted the stylus to scan the document displayed in the active window. It was a massive family tree of the Wemyss clan, some names he recognized but most he did not. Most of the names were in blue and underlined in black. A few, mainly the older long dead ones were in red and underlined in black. Many of the daughters married into other families and the surnames changed but the lines were still traced. The men and women who married into the line were mainly brown, some blue, very rare reds in recent decades. There were locations for certain branches, countries or cities. Some of the names further down the tree were not underlined. He played with the software pulling up the Gotham branch of the family tree. Robert Wayne was in red and underlined, so was Solomon Wayne though the rest were blue and underlined, most of the spouses of the Gotham Wayne's were blue and underlined. His father was blue and underlined, his mother was blue and underlined, his name was in blue and not underlined.

He cocked his head inquiringly. "I presume the colours have a meaning."

"Yes. But right now you don't need to know. The black underline means-."

"They are dead." He interrupted her bluntly. "What can you tell me?"

"The McInnes and Wemyss are old families that formed an alliance centuries ago. Due to certain requirements of the McInnes Trust I need to track a specific object that would have been passed down the Wemyss clan." She tapped the symbol on the old journal. "It would most likely be a journal similar to this, or a medieval artefact crafted in this design. My agents eliminated most of the cadet branches in Britain and Europe and suggested I look in North America and Australia. Your branch of the Wemyss clan is socially prominent and more difficult for a regular investigator to access so I decided to look into the Gotham Wayne's while my agents track down the other branches."

"And how do you plan on locating this relic, Miss McInnes? It would take a whole team of specialists to sift through all the cellars and boxes to find one journal. Some of it has been catalogued, but most of the private personal belongings of my ancestors have not been touched in decades." Dark eyes narrowed. "I am not willing to let a team of researchers go through material containing details about my family's personal history."

"Not a whole team. Just me."

"Just you?" His tone was clearly sceptical.

Hermione took a deep breath. "I am a very good researcher. All McInnes are and we have ways of speeding up the search even without a computer catalogue database. I only require unlimited access to the archives and I am willing to be searched upon exiting or entering the premises, but I will only work alone without anyone hovering over my shoulder. You are free to have anyone do an inventory before and after I work but I swear I will not damage any of your family heirlooms or ever reveal any information I gain from them to the public without your express permission. In fact, I will probably be using certain proprietary techniques to preserve and restore them. I am willing to sign a contract to the effect." She touched the journal. "This book dates from the time of Richard the Lionheart, but it is still in good condition despite being actively used by many generations of McInnes since Matthew McInnes; he was the Family Head who created the Pact with William Wemyss. Have a look at the first few pages if you do not believe me."

He turned the pages carefully and went still, one broad fingertip tracing the spidery narrow script. Hermione knew the first few pages were safe; they simply listed some details about both families and the social situation. When he was about to turn the page again she pulled it away from under his hand and closed it.

"No. It is family history. If the Gotham Wayne's are involved in the Pact I will tell you more." She made a face. "In fact, you may wish to not know once you hear it." She rubbed her face. "It is rather… ugly and difficult."

"It is ancient history." He countered firmly. "It cannot affect you unless you let it."

She laughed; a brief humourless sound. "I wish Mr Wayne, I only wish." She bit her lower lip. "Some days I wish I never went looking into my family history. They do say ignorance is bliss."

He eyed her carefully. "Somehow I don't think you are one of them Miss McInnes."

She smiled a more honest smile. "Actually you are right. I am the sort who prefers to walk into a situation with eyes wide open." She turned sober. "Only this situation is a bit explosive for anyone involved."

"And you won't tell me anything?" He spoke casually.

She shook her head. "I can't. Not without more information."

He was silent for a while. Hermione carefully closed the windows and shut down the tablet PC. Carefully, she packed her belongings into the briefcase before producing a business card and holding it out.

"I know I'm asking for a great deal so I'm not going to push. Think about it and give me a call when you reach a decision. I'm staying at the Gotham Plaza for the next week."

He accepted the card and murmured polite farewells that she reciprocated before leaving. As she walked out of the office and heard the heavy doors swing shut she prayed and hoped he'd be curious enough to co-operate. If not she'd have to pull out her dragon-hide gear and go sneaking.

~o~

Bruce flipped the card over between his fingers. It was a cream rectangle faintly embossed with a pentacle, lettering in chocolate script. Hermione Jane McInnes. Below were four phone numbers (London, Athens, Salem, Seattle) and an email address. Hand written in blue ink on the back was a Gotham telephone number.

A faint crease marred his forehead as deft hands sketched the symbol embossed in the cover on a sheet of foolscap. He had recognized the symbol. His father had a ring with the same symbol engraved on a black polished stone. Doctor Thomas Wayne had shown the ring to Bruce on his eighth birthday.

~ooOoo~

"Dad, how did you and Mom meet?"

Thomas Wayne laughed. "I've told you the story before Bruce. We were introduced at a gallery opening."

"But how did you know she was the One?"

"When I touched her I knew. I felt a shock. In a good way."

Young Bruce looked disagreeable. "A shock? That's it? Where you standing on carpet? It could have been static electricity."

Thomas shook his head. "Oh no! It was something completely different. You'll know it when you experience it for yourself Bruce."

Young Bruce considered the information. "Dad, would you have married Mom if you didn't feel that shock?"

Thomas frowned faintly. "I don't know." He thought for a few seconds. "Probably not. It has been sort of a tradition. In the past, most Wayne marriages have been good solid matches, love matches and true partnerships because we choose our spouses not for wealth, social connections, or alliances but based on this Knowing. We know if a person could be a good spouse within seconds of meeting them."

"Is the shock part of it?"

"Oh yes."

"Is there anything else, Dad?"

Thomas turned to his dresser and opened a shallow rosewood chest and removed something before closing it. When he turned back to Young Bruce, he held out his palm to reveal a silver ring with a broad band and a flat, black surface etched with a design in silver; a five-point star and two circles, one within and one out.

"There is an old family legend Bruce, something our ancestor Robert Wayne brought when he arrived in the New World from Scotland. This symbol is the source of our good fortune. Your mother was wearing a pendant with this design when I met her. Between that and what I felt when I touched her, I knew she was the one, that one day she would be my wife, that she would make me the happiest man alive."

~ooOoo~

Bruce remembered nagging his mother into showing him the pendant, an inexpensive piece created from silver wire. Both items had almost been destroyed when the Manor had been burned down. Bruce thanked Alfred for being so conscientious as to return them to the vaults when he had left Gotham. It had been the time when he had been desperately in love with Andrea, enough to ask her to marry him and give up his plans to become a vigilante. He had hoped the pieces would help him figure out a way to persuade her to stay with him in Gotham, but she had chosen to leave with her father.

He rubbed his thumb across his fingertips recalling the small shock he'd felt when he'd shaken hands with Hermione McInnes. She had felt it herself. And then there was the symbol on her family journal, the same symbol etched on his fathers ring. Bruce frowned. He had given up on love with his quest to protect Gotham; there was no way he could put a woman in danger not, unless she knew the score and was able to defend herself. Brief transitory affairs were all that he could allow in his life. He had mostly given up on a wife and biological children; Dick would most likely be his primary heir. But still he was curious… Robert Wayne had known of the symbol and linked it to his good fortune. His descendants had believed and some had even chosen their spouses using it as a sign.

Hermione McInnes knew a lot more than perhaps even Thomas Wayne had implied. Bruce wanted to know just what that symbol meant and why his ancestors had believed so strongly in superstitious nonsense. He glanced at the card resting on top of his sketch. He was going to grant her access to the private Wayne archives. Under heavy electronic supervision of course.

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

Alfred sighed as he made his way down into the Cave. The last two weeks had been rather odd. Master Bruce had been very wary of the researcher, even though he had given her permission to search through the heirlooms stored in libraries, archives, cellars and storage facilities all over Gotham. Most of Alfred's daytime hours were spent playing escort for Miss McInnes. Over the days, they had easily fallen into a pattern.

He would arrive to pick her up and she would insist he eat breakfast with her, he would drink tea and watch her consume something more substantial. He would drive her to the facility of the day and escort her into the climate controlled rooms. He and the archive supervisor would watch her select a certain number of boxes and move them to a separate room. She would close the door and only open it for a lunch tray and when Alfred would knock to remind her the day was at an end and drive her back to her hotel.

At first he had been bored. That is, until he saw just how quickly she worked through the boxes, processing and cataloguing them as part of her agreement with Master Bruce. The first evening the archivist had seen the fruits of her day, he had been in tears. Immediately, he had offered her a position with the Gotham Preservation Society. Miss McInnes had refused. Then he asked her to take on difficult projects. She promised to consider it. Then he begged her to train Society archivists in her techniques. She had demurred saying they were family techniques and not meant to be shared; though she was planning on teaching any of her relatives who might be interested in Library Studies. But at the moment she had a great many other commitments to fulfil.

No one could quite explain how she managed to go through so many boxes so quickly and yet so thoroughly. By some unknown means she had managed to preserve and repair fragile pieces that even expert restoration specialists had refused to touch. Master Bruce had been intrigued by the unknown chemicals and techniques that could prove useful in his nightly activities. Unfortunately his first few attempts to spy on Miss McInnes failed miserably. One minute after closing the door behind her, Miss McInnes set off some kind of device that fried any electronic surveillance devices in the room. Of course, it had not deterred the Master. Each night he tried different systems and models, all of which had short-circuited within seconds.

"Anything tonight Master Bruce?"

"Actually yes."

Alfred was taken aback by the faint tremor in his old charge's voice. He hurried down the steps to the table covered with various LCD screens and keyboards.

"What is it Master Bruce?"

"You know how both of us were wondering how she manages to catalogue and restore so much in just eight hours? Well I found out how."

"Would you care to enlighten me?"

"It would be better if you see for yourself."

He pressed a few keys and played a split-screen video recorded from two angles.

Alfred pulled up a chair and sat down to watch.

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

TBC…


	2. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Bat Clan is introduced to wand magic

Alfred pulled up a chair and sat down to watch.

~ooOoo~

Hermione McInnes smiled politely and waited for the archivist to leave. Swiftly she locked the door and began shifting the boxes on the floor around the center table. She opened her leather briefcase and began pulling out notebooks, scrolls, and the McInnes journal.

She removed a small quartz crystal geode set on a metal base engraved with glyphs and activated the device. A small pulse of white energy bloomed out in a sphere and passed through the walls generating static on the video. Apparently this was the method she used to short out all previous electronic surveillance attempts. It took a few seconds for the surveillance system to compensate and clear the static. Next she set her metal briefcase on the tabletop and opened it to turn on her laptop.

"Winky, Button, Thimble, I need you."

Three soft pops and three short squat Yoda-like figures with green leathery skin, spindly limbs, oversized heads, bulging eyes and floppy bat-like ears appeared around her. Each was dressed in clean white pillow case like smocks embroidered in green, gold, black and white – McInnes colours – across the top.

Hermione frowned. "Are you sure you don't want clothes-?"

"NO!" All three creatures yelled in unison. Then the shortest one marched up front shaking its finger before speaking in a high feminine register.

"Missy Hermy knows Winky does not want clothes!"

Hermione bit her lip. "What about a uniform?" She tried. "A sailors suit? Or overalls?" She shrugged off her maroon coloured hoody and draped it over one chair leaving her in just stone washed denim jeans and a black tank top. 

"No! Pillow case is too much! Towel much much better. Winky does not want clothes." The other two elves nodded emphatically. Then Winky softened. "House elves wants family Missy Hermy. If you get a mate and have little ones we be happy with family to take care of."

Hermione sighed. "I still don't understand why you prefer being slaves." She moved on narrow feet shod in black ballet flats to kneel on the ground before the trio of house elves.

"Not slaves. Is family." Winky corrected emphatically. "House elves need wizards magic to be strong."

"You know I can try to find out exactly what was done to your ancestors and see if I can change the geas." Hermione offered.

"House elves no want change! Change is trouble. Only want good families."

Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose. "Okay okay! I'll stop trying to free house elves and just work on improving their living environment."

Winky beamed. "What does Missy Hermy want?"

"The usual Winky. Go through the boxes. See if you can find any reference to Wemyss, McInnes, the Pact, or the symbol. If anything is too badly damaged for you to repair let me know. Just try to control your magic so you don't fry my laptop."

The three nodded in unison and wordlessly divided the spread of boxes and began opening them and levitating the contents out with magic.

Hermione sat back on her heels and stood up. While the house elves worked on the boxes she opened the leather briefcase and pulled out the edge of a frame. And pulled more and more until impossibly she had removed a portrait three feet by two feet that in no normal fashion could ever have fitted in the briefcase. Carefully she placed the portrait on one of the three plastic chairs around the table, angling it so she could see it from her position.

The portrait was of a middle-aged woman with nut brown hair wearing a pale green Regency style gown and a McInnes tartan as a shawl sitting at a desk in front of a wall covered with books. Hermione touched the frame with fingers glowing faintly gold.

"Leda, it is safe now."

The portrait opened her eyes moved slightly, then more vigorously.

"Thank Merlin child!" She shuddered. "I hate going into stasis." Then she perked up. "Have you found anything interesting?"

"Nothing yet. I spent most of last evening adding more information into Mister Wayne's catalogue. I feel so guilty of taking advantage of his generosity."

Leda snorted. "You aren't taking advantage of anyone child. If you fail, it will affect him and every other descendant of William Wemyss. Besides, he is getting an expert archivist inventorying dozens of boxes of decaying material for free. And those magical repairs you've been doing for him are not cheap; the ingredients for those potions are expensive."

Hermione snorted as she started quickly scanning a small pile of personal letters making notes on her laptop.

"Basilisk flesh and bone is quite cheap for someone who knows Harry Potter. Merlin knows I deserve some of it. That horrid creature nearly killed me in Second Year."

"Mmm. What happened to the rest of the carcass?"

"In storage. Harry wanted to burn the whole thing but I persuaded him not to. We are going to sell it in controlled amounts so the price is not depressed. A good chunk of the money is going to fund scholarships for Hogwarts students; Muggle-born and Half-bloods without a patron."

"I hope you didn't ask that greedy Potions Master to harvest the carcass." Leda sounded faintly disapproving.

Hermione snorted. "Of course not! Slughorn would have insisted on keeping the best parts for his ingredient cupboard. It took me a whole month to render it down to usable ingredients by myself. I kept some of it to experiment with some of the potions recipes that are no longer made because Basilisk ingredients are so rare. The restorer I use is my variant on the parchment and paper restoration potion Weintz created."

Leda frowned. "That corpse must have been more than sixty feet long dear. And the hide must have been a nightmare to cut."

"Hagrid helped with the heavy cutting." Hermione admitted. "The hide was amazingly dense and resistant to cutting hexes and conventional knives. I kept all of it and commissioned a set of Battle Robes for Harry and myself."

"Esteban Prince mentioned using a special knife in his Memoirs." Leda mused.

"One made from a Basilisk fang." Hermione commented absently as she continued making notes on the laptop. "We had already used the two primary poison fangs to destroy Tom Riddle's soul anchors but there were several others more than ten inches long. I commissioned a nice set of throwing knives and a pair of daggers. I found a discreet wandmaker in Bulgaria who was more than happy to craft them in return for some of the harvest."

Leda was taken aback. "Basilisk-cored wands? Most would be terrified of something so inherently Dark and volatile."

"I don't see why." Hermione murmured absently. "My battle wands are cored with basilisk hide and blood and Fireball scale and heart-string."

Leda was impressed. "You have battle wands? You did not mention that to me!" She sounded slightly affronted.

The younger witch rubbed her nose. "I didn't? I told Tiberius and Erin… I suppose you might have been away at the time. I don't usually use them…" She trailed off.

"Tell me of your battle wands!" Leda pressed encouragingly.

Hermione paused in her work and leaned back in her chair. Her lips pursed thoughtfully before she began speaking.

"It was after the Last Battle. I was still using Bellatrix's wand. I didn't like it but I couldn't find a better match among Mister Ollivanders inventory. An off-the-shelf wand was not working and my magic was burning out anything too light. Dragon was the best possibility, one of the more volatile types."

"Chinese Fireball." Leda noted.

"Yes. It just so happened I was rendering the Basilisk corpse into potions ingredients at the same time. I had to find a buyer on the continent for a good price. Victor Krum introduced me to a few buyers, including a wandmaker who offered custom wands as part of the payment. I didn't expect to get such good results from a Basilisk wand." Hermione admitted.

"Do you have them with you?"

Hermione glanced around hesitantly before crossing her arms across her chest touching her shoulders. Where her hands made contact there was a faint glow and when she uncrossed her arms she held a shaft of dark wood fifteen inches long in her left hand, a reddish coloured rod in her right.

She twirled the rod in her right hand. "Holly with basilisk hide and dragon heartstring." Then she twirled the darker rod. "Mahogany with basilisk blood and dragon scale."

"Living wood with protection and volatility. Unwavering wood with power and catalyst." Leda translated the wand properties. "Very unique combinations."

"So I've been informed. Dual-cored wands are very rare. My every day one is more conventional, eleven inches of willow with dragon heartstring, Norwegian Ridgeback." She smiled faintly, a distant reminiscent expression. "My first Ollivander wand was vine wood with a dragon heartstring core."

"Have you used them? In true combat?"

Hermione hesitated before answering. "Twice." Leda absorbed the information. "I prefer using my everyday one, even in duelling. The Battle wands are a last resort."

Leda was silent for a while.

"Wouldn't wand-holsters be more convenient?"

"And more difficult to explain away," Hermione murmured. "I've been disarmed too many times Leda."

"So you used blood runes to seal them to you."

"I can't replace them and repairing them would be a nightmare. I cannot risk losing them and I won't destroy them." Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose. "I finally understand why Harry hates the Elder Wand. He can't destroy it and he can't risk someone with fewer scruples winning it. And with the stone and the cloak…" She shuddered. "Dumbledore was a fool to think he could play with Death and win."

Leda smirked. "Disillusioned with your old Headmaster aren't you?"

Hermione snorted. "Very. I spent months cleaning up after him. Inconsiderate bastard! I think he died to avoid answering questions. Minerva tells me his portrait still spends most of the time dozing."

Leda sniffed. "Just give me a few weeks. I'll wring any answers you want from him."

Hermione shook her head. "I'm not going to waste any time on the old fool. I have more important things to worry about."

She touched the wands to her biceps and they vanished in a faint flash of light. Then she pulled out a slender shaft of flexible willow wood from her bag and murmured a spell under her breath. The crumbling edges of the letter realigned into place. A second casting joined the pieces. A third reinforced the paper enough to be handled. She opened a Delft blue glazed pot and produced a brush from a flat kit. Carefully she painted the surface of the paper with the viscous lime green fluid. A different spell and the potion was absorbed into the paper which looked much more stronger than it did before.

In most cases the house elves magic was more than able to restore the relics. Most of the time was spent scanning the reams of documents and making notes for the electronic catalogue. By the time lunchtime came, Hermione was frustrated.

"I don't know if I can keep doing this Leda. I've already gone through three storage sites and there are at least a dozen more. It is very possible that the Seal is in another branch of the Wemyss family. And I really want to get out of Gotham as soon as I can. Mister Wayne is not very discreet in his interest and Alfred has been asking rather pointed questions; it is getting difficult to redirect him. Maybe we should try elsewhere."

"You will do no such thing Hermione! You will continue your search in a scholarly fashion, methodically and thoroughly." Leda spoke sharply. "You cannot afford the chance you are wrong and the risk in rushing and missing a vital bit of information!"

Hermione swallowed her mouthful of sandwich and sipped her ginger ale before speaking. 

"I still don't understand how two families could be so idiotic to agree to a Blood Pact! With such open-ended terms!"

"It was different times my dear, you know that from your Muggle history lessons and trust me when I say Scottish wizarding clans were just as savage and bloodthirsty. Only we had a lot more skill, abilities, and knowledge than the Muggles when it came to interacting with enemies. Think of it as a Cold War with horrendous casualties. I know of one particular incident where a McInnes took down the outer wards of a Wemyss stronghold as a distraction. He killed a dozen families belonging to cadet branches. And it was simply a distraction so his kinsmen could steal a herd of cattle! Life was too cheap child; for a truce to last it needed to be enforced."

"So the Family Heads negotiated and cast a Blood Pact. Binding every single one of their descendants and blood kin to the terms. Even those with only barest traces of the blood." Hermione sighed softly.

"Yes. They completely and irrevocably linked the fortunes of both families together. If one prospers so will the other. And to keep prospering the Pact must be renewed. You cannot deny it child, if it is not renewed you will die and the rest of your kin will follow. And so will Mister Wayne and his kin."

Hermione swallowed hard and shook her head. "I've been researching Blood Rituals and Bonding. The terms of the Pact require the union of Wemyss and McInnes blood. In the past it meant marriage, but we might be able to get around it with a blood transfusion. Blood cells have a 120 day life cycle; a transfusion from a Wemyss donor every 16 weeks should be an acceptable stop gap."

Leda shook her head. "You are grasping at straws Hermione."

Hermione snorted. "Of course I am! Just what am I supposed to do Leda? Should I arrange for a hundred blind dates between various Wemyss and McInnes descendants and hope one of them ends in marriage? Or should I just pick one at random and marry him myself and divorce him a few years later?"

Leda looked disapproving. "Have you thought about trying to make it work?"

"No. Most of the Wemyss descendants are squibs who know nothing about magic or the wizarding world. How am I supposed to try and make a marriage work when I know damn well I only went through it to save thousands of distant relatives who I've never seen in my life? How am I supposed to justify dragging some poor schmuck into the danger and mess that is my life?" Hermione snapped back sharply.

Leda smirked. "Find a Wemyss son whose life is as messed up as yours and offer to help straighten it out." Hermione choked, snorted and burst out laughing. Leda just waited for it to die before continuing. "You've straightened out the financial affairs, public images and personal lives of many allies and friends. Sure your equilibrium right now is a little off, with the pressure of the unfulfilled Pact, but you are already getting a good handle on your own life Hermione. Just another year of travelling and breathing hard over the shoulders of your account managers and you can go back to research and development. Don't lie and tell me you didn't enjoy the work you did on Raven and Serpent."

"It was interesting. Blending Arithmancy and runes with high level physics." Hermione conceded. "And I don't understand why any Muggle-born with a half-decent chemistry background didn't even think of using Arithmancy to eliminate variables in pharmaceutical research. I mean Potions Masters use it all the time to develop stable recipes. It was actually my OWL project." She made a face. "Professor Snape gave me an E but Professor Vector gave me an O and said she was looking forward to phase two in my NEWT project." She was silent for a while. "I did some of the preliminary work but after the war I lost interest in potions. And then there was work and studies. I only managed to complete phase two because I had access to the McInnes libraries and fortune. No one was willing to sponsor research blending magical theory with science."

"Ah my dear, that is because few of them have the broad range of interests McInnes witches and wizards. And what about your progress in Project Nimue? A most intriguing application of ward design theory and logarithmic Arithmancy. Self perpetuating labyrinths. When are you going to show them to that nice Mister Heindrich?"

"I'm not sure. A month? Two months? I've already couriered the preliminary proposals to Liam. His engineers can do the phase one number crunching and testing. Once they have the data I'll need to do some refining…" Hermione looked away distracted, her lips forming soundless syllables.

Her hand reached out to grab a notebook bound in maroon pebbled hide. Swiftly she picked up her pens and began making notes, occasionally casting holographic illusions with her wand, making minor adjustments before copying the figures into her book.

Leda watched indulgently with a fond smile before gesturing to the house elves.

"Winky."

The female elf was quick to bounce over to the painting. "Yes Mistress Leda?"

"Hermione is a bit involved in a new line of thought. Keep a separate pile of anything that needs repairs. I want you to hold what you've restored up to me and make notes. Hermione can transcribe them for the catalogue later in the evening. When Button and Thimble have a pile of about twenty items we'll remind her she needs to go back to restoring and focus on the Pact."

"Winky will obey Mistress Leda."

And then the next three hours were spent in near silence. Hermione making frantic notes on whatever line of thought had sparked her interest. Leda scanning the restored records held up by Winky, making comments. Winky transcribing Ledas words via a levitating quill.

It took several attempts on the part of Leda and Winky to bring Hermione back to the present. A floating ice cube slipped down her tank top finally succeeded.

"You need to repair what the house elves can't Hermione." Leda pointed out bluntly.

Reluctantly the witch closed her current note book and picked up the tray holding fragments of parchment that once was a letter.

After some minutes Hermione spoke softly. "It is getting worse Leda. I went out for a movie and dinner last night and was nearly run down by a taxi and mugged twice before I got back to the hotel."

"Are you sure it wasn't Gotham? This place has a bad reputation."

"Leda, I Portkeyed to Seattle to visit the account manager in Gringotts Seattle."

"Oh."

"Yes oh. The curse of personal misfortune is getting worse. It is only a matter of time before it expands to social and economic misfortune."

Leda sighed. "I'm not sure how the Gotham Wayne's did it. I mean they managed to avoid any truly horrendous personal misfortunes for more than two centuries. The only truly tragic personal misfortune in recent years were the murders of Thomas and Martha Wayne. Since your great-grandmothers time, your line has been plagued with great personal tragedy."

Hermione rubbed her eyes. "I don't know Leda but I suspect the answer is in these journals. The Wayne's managed to beat the curse attached to the Pact with no apparent magic. If I know how I just might be able to get around the bloody Pact."

"Whatever method they used it might be failing." Leda warned. "Thomas and Martha were killed."

"But their son is still alive." Hermione pointed out.

"Oh yes a truly honourable scion for a long and prestigious lineage." Leda scoffed. "A wastrel who allows other men to lead and guide those under his protection."

"Leda! These are no longer Victorian times! Just because you work for someone doesn't mean he is responsible for your well being! Employees are free to leave and move around as they wish!"

"Then Bruce Wayne is the prime example of the Gods looking after fools and children! He ran off for seven years and returned to only burn down his ancestral estate in a drunken fit!" Leda countered.

Hermione frowned. "I don't know… There is something off about that story."

Leda blinked. "Really? How so?"

"I read a few articles written by different reporters and published by different papers. The timing of events doesn't quite jibe."

"Hmmm." Leda cupped her chin intrigued. "Care to elaborate?"

"Of course. I made a few timeline charts using the articles on Bruce Wayne containing testimony from five different witnesses. He was in no way shape or form drunk. Then, fifteen minutes later, he's screaming like a raving lunatic chasing everyone away. Ten minutes later Wayne Manor goes up on fire. Tell me Leda, how long does it take alcohol to affect a healthy, six foot, two hundred pound plus male?"

"Much longer than fifteen minutes." Leda conceded.

"And a fire that spread that fast? Even if he emptied his liquor cabinets there is no way in hell it could have destroyed a brick and stone structure down to the foundations. The interior furnishings yes, but the actual walls and frame? Not without some serious explosives planted in key locations."

"So he acted like a lunatic to evacuate his home." Leda surmised softly.

"That is my conclusion."

"Anything else dear?"

"There is something artificial about his actions. I mean he always arrives two hours late, and leaves just ten minutes after the peak causing a very public scene. Usually with two women. Who generally are dropped off because he is too drunk to perform. I mean seriously! If he is paying for their jewellery and dresses why on earth isn't he bothering to actually sleep with them?"

Leda choked and coughed. "That is quite… blunt."

Hermione snorted. "He is an unmarried male, presumably healthy and in the prime of his life. Why is he going back to an empty bed in an almost empty house? Unless he prefers his own sex." She frowned. "No. He's had a couple of serious relationships that ended in rather spectacular fashions. Usually with the lady in question retreating fast to avoid arrest." She chewed on her lip. "He has really bad taste in women. Do you think his actions have something to do with the Pact?"

"I doubt it my dear. He is a man and he's probably not thinking about the future."

"What do you mean?"

"Everything you do, why do you do it?"

Hermione frowned. "Because I want to help people. Make their lives a little better."

"And your relationship with Ronald Weasley. Why did you end it?"

"He was not helping me. He was belittling me, dragging me down."

"But you kept giving him chances. Why did you stop?"

Hermione rubbed the arch of her nose. "When it was just me I could afford the risk, to keep giving him chances, hoping he would change. But when I became the Head of the McInnes Family, thousands of people became dependent on me. To fix a stupid Pact that would kill people who know nothing about it. To keep the current business partnerships going because they employ tens of thousands. To expand R&D investments because new times require new ideas and products. To push reform through the Wizengamot because the Muggle world is changing and the Magical one is stagnant. I could not afford to become a crying wreck every time the idiot went into a sulk and broke up with me. So much time, energy, and effort wasted on a fool who took, and took, and took." Her eyes were teary.

"So you cut him out. You cut out relationships that were a drain on your resources and focused on those that could benefit your cause. Because you have a target and a deadline and dependents."

"Yes."

"From what we can see Bruce Wayne doesn't have any target deadline or dependents. He doesn't appear to have any real goals or interest, other than those rumours about his extreme sports activities. His CEO, Lucius Fox, looks after his employees. He has a ward, but the boy is a teenager, almost an adult himself."

Hermione shook her head. "No. He has a target and a deadline."

"Excuse me?"

"You didn't see his eyes Leda. There were moments…" She trailed off, her focus on something she remembered.

"What did you see Hermione?"

"He reminded me of Severus Snape."

Leda sat up straight. "Really? How so?" She sounded intrigued.

Hermione chewed on her lower lip. "They were so intense, completely and utterly focused. Measuring, calculating, predicting, extrapolating. And then they changed back to that the stupid blank look. It is like he has two different personalities."

"A facade." Leda breathed.

"Yes. But who is he fooling? And why?"

~ooOoo~

The clip came to an end.

Dick was the first to speak and quite succinct in his conclusions.

"We're screwed. If she figured all that out from just newspaper articles and one in-person meeting sooner or later she'll have enough free time and curiosity to go looking deeper. Eventually she is going to pull enough loose threads to unravel the whole deception."

Tim glanced around the conference table in the Cave. Bruce had called Dick in from Bludhaven since the fall out could potentially affect him as well. Alfred was passing out mugs of hot tea before he started sipping on his own.

"How do we know it wasn't some huge illusion? Some kind of act staged for the camera?" Tim was grasping at straws but he wasn't quit ready to accept the reality of magic being as common as Hermione McInnes implied.

"She isn't faking the history." Bruce spoke in Batmans gravel-like voice. "The emblem on the diary cover… I recognized it. My parents had jewellery bearing that design."

He opened a flat brown leather box lined in black velvet. He took out a man's ring with a broad silver band and a flat black stone etched with a particular design in silver; a five-point star and two circles, one within and one out. The powerful overhead lights illuminated the polished subtle facets of the black stone before he passed it around. Then, he removed a second item from the box, a delicate ladies pendant made of silver wire twisted and formed in the same design and it was passed around the other way.

"It does look alike." Tim allowed.

"I examined the journal. It is identical only more detailed since the journal is larger. The rods that form the star and spokes have small thorns, almost like barbed wire."

"Do you believe what she said about the Pact?" Dick asked suddenly. "We've seen a lot of freaky things but I've never seen people casting magic using Wands."

"I did some research myself and found little so Batman talked with Jason Blood."

The table fell silent. Jason Blood was Gothams acknowledged occult expert. Given that the sorcerer was practically immortal due to Merlins Curse he had the time to see, study, and experience many things and places over several lifetimes. Of course getting him to share his knowledge was not always an easy thing.

"What did he say Master Bruce?" Alfred asked quietly.

"He provided me with some background data and personal details on the situation." Bruce produced a small stack of folders and passed them around the table. "Take a few minutes and read it for yourself."

And he reread the material himself. Jason had been confused when Batman had asked for information on magic users who used wands, not staffs. He had to mention Hermione McInnes for Jason to understand exactly which group of magic users he was referring to.

~ooOoo~

"Hermione McInnes?"

"Yes. She casts magic using a wand. A slender wooden rod about a forearm in length? My understanding is it has a unique organic core."

Jason Blood smiled faintly and poured a glass of brandy. "You are looking for information on the wand-wavers."

"That's what I said."

"You misunderstand. Wand-wavers are a sub-society of homo magi who depend primarily on their wands to cast magic. They live in small hidden enclaves all over the world, primarily in Europe. They have their own governments, laws, hospitals, police, schools, and their own brand of megalomaniacs and pureblood bigots." He added harshly. "Think Nazis with intolerance towards anyone different, newcomers and outsiders, and great enthusiasm for Aryan eugenic practices."

Batman frowned. "Excuse me?"

"Think magical aristocracy who hate first generation homo magis. Well technically homo magis whose ancestors interbred with non-magicals and lived outside the enclaves. They have a nice term for people without magic. Muggle. Children born to such parents are called Muggle-born, Mudbloods by the bigots." Jasons expression was sour. "The fools don't realize they are inbreeding themselves into extinction. If it wasn't for the first generation throwbacks they'd die out in a few centuries."

"Have you heard anything about a Hermione Jane McInnes? She might be from one of these hidden enclaves in Britain."

Jason smiled faintly. "Oh yes. The stories that surround her are quite intriguing. A most formidable witch; I had considered asking for her help in breaking Merlin's Curse but decided it wasn't worth taking the risk that she might consider Etrigan a real threat who needed to be destroyed. I talked to quite a few wand-users who worked with her and was impressed by the words they use to describe her; intelligent, ruthless, powerful, skilled, loyal, honourable, ethical." He tilted his head to one side. "If you are having difficulty finding information on Hermione McInnes you may wish to investigate Hermione Granger. It is her birth name, one anyone from a wizarding enclave would recognize."

"Why?"

"Because she is a leader, a hero, and a survivor."

~ooOoo~

And then Jason had gone into more detail expanding on the history of one Hermione Jane Granger. The reputation of a genius and scholar formed when she was a teenage student. The alternating venom and adoration spewed by the tabloid rags. Her close relationship with one Harry Potter, the subject of a Prophecy and target of an insane wizard and his followers. How teenagers trained by the Golden Trio (Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley) formed a key core of the resistance when Voldemort took over the Ministry of Magic in Britain. And victory was not won by armies but by three teenagers on a quest to end the source of Voldemort's immortality. Granger had sent her parents into hiding and had become estranged from them when they returned.

When the war was over they returned to complete their education before starting on their adult lives: Ronald Weasley playing professional sports, Harry Potter as an Auror and later on a Hit Wizard travelling abroad far from the fame and fickle adulation, Hermione Granger as a lawyer associated with Magical Law Enforcement which was the equivalent of the District Attorneys office. A few years later she moved into a government R&D position and out of general public eye. Eventually, word leaked out she was working as an agent tracking down magical criminals. Then, two years ago, she did an Inheritance Ritual at Gringotts (the wizards' bank) and laid claim to the McInnes vaults.

She resigned her position and immediately threw herself into business working on the other end of pushing changes in attitude to reform wizarding society. And she definitely had her work cut out for her; for every battle she won, she made enemies and allies but she had never backed away from holding her ground. She was one of the few wand-users who the Gringotts goblins actually respected. She valued knowledge, time and money and had no compunction about feeding her enemies to the proverbial dragons to get her way.

Bruce sipped his tea and struggled to get his thoughts under control. Hermione Granger had been thrown into the deep end without any training or a dependable adult guide but she had survived; no she had thrived and forced the world to change and fit her will.

Each of his wards closed their copy of the folder with a sick expression. Only Alfred had enough control over his expression to maintain a mask of polite indifference though Bruce knew his old guardian was just as disgusted and concerned over the situation as he was.

Tim chewed on his lower lip vigorously. After several tense seconds he exploded.

"What are we going to do Bruce?" He gestured at the folder. "She's like a pit bull. She might be misdirected but only as a stopgap measure. Did you see her conviction rate when she worked as a lawyer? No DA could match those numbers unless they are very, very good."

"It was odd the way she set up her cases." Dick added with a hint of admiration. "She didn't use the primary charges as the base of her case but the secondary charges; kind of like how the Feds nailed Al Capone for tax evasion." His expression turned sober. "But Tim is right Bruce. She knows too much from just a surface investigation. It was really amazing watching her put the pieces together, extrapolating using scanty facts and intuition. If she really starts digging she will find out."

Bruce was silent for a while. "I know. I only hope she finds whatever she is looking for soon. It might be the only thing that would distract her from looking into our activities."

Then Tim frowned. "Bruce?"

"Yes?"

"You know what she was talking about near the end? The Blood Pact being reaffirmed by marriage?" He blushed but resolutely continued. "What are you going to do?"

Bruce smiled faintly. "I'm not planning on marrying her if that is what you are asking Tim. Besides Miss McInnes is quite formidable and determined to find an alternative to marriage. Given time and resources I'm certain she'll figure something out. She's not interested in marrying any more than I am."

"But there is something that bothers me Master Bruce." Alfred interjected smoothly. "She said the Gotham Wayne's had somehow evaded the bad luck clauses of the Pact. Do you have any idea how this was done? Did Master Thomas mention anything?"

Bruce reached out and took the heavy silver ring, examining the iridescent gleam before slipping it on his left pointer finger. When he spoke his voice was distant.

"My father mentioned something about an old family legend that started with the original Robert Wayne who emigrated from Scotland. He said this symbol was the source of our good fortune." He looked at each face in turn before continuing. "He said the Wayne's always chose their spouse based on a gut sensation, a shock they experienced when they first touched. As a boy I thought it was love-at-first-sight like from fairy tales. When I grew older I relabelled it as sexual chemistry. But after listening to her explanation I have another theory.

"The Blood Pact requires the unison of Wemyss and McInnes blood to reaffirm the Agreement made by the families. I did some investigating into the women and men who married past Wayne's – those who had long successful lives – and I discovered something. Almost all of them were descended from a certain family."

Tims eyes widened as he connected the dots. "McInnes."

"Yes. My own mother was descended from one of the many branches of the McInnes family that immigrated to America three centuries ago."

"So they were not affected by the misfortune that affected Miss McInnes's family," Alfred surmised. "because the magic of this Pact interpreted the marriages as an attempt to fulfill the terms of a union between Wemyss and McInnes blood."

"Yes. But that did not completely protect my parents."

"And you." Dick pointed out bluntly. "Miss McInnes definitely had the right idea when she theorized that the Pact was having an effect on you."

Bruce frowned. "My personal life-."

Dick was quick to interrupt. "Your personal life is a wreck. You spend more time in the Cave or in costume than relaxing when you're not out schmoozing. You fall for women who tear you up and leave you bleeding, or you refuse to let them inside in some attempt to shield them from danger. You've nearly died several times because you refuse to ask for help and trust others. You seem to specialize in driving others away."

There was an uncomfortable silence before Bruce spoke.

"You're right." The words fell into the tense stillness. "Every time I had the chance to be happy something always went wrong. It became easier to arrange my life to reduce the opportunity of being hurt."

Three pairs of eyes blinked and goggled at the unexpected candour from the most tight lipped, paranoid, costumed, crime-fighter in America.

"I always labelled it as a personal failing; but, this new information changes things. If Miss McInnes can break the Pact, or at least figure out some way of fulfilling the terms, things will change. And to be honest it would be nice to relax without wondering how things will be going to go to hell in a hand basket."

"So what are we going to do?" Tim asked hesitantly. "Are you going to tell her?"

"Nothing about our nightly activities, but she will be given free access to any personal information in the Wayne Family Archives. I want her to have every resource she may need to fix this mess." Bruce announced.

Again all three goggled.

"That's it?" Dick was aghast. "You aren't going to hover over her shoulder? Run your own parallel investigation and drop off the results in her mail box? Talk to Fate or Zatanna about looking into breaking the Pact?"

Bruce smiled faintly. "I don't see any reason to do any of those things Dick. I don't have enough expertise in magic or curse breaking and I would not even know where to start. Fate and Zatanna have their own commitments and I would like to keep the information within the family as it were. And she is committed to seeing this through because she has a very large stake in figuring out a way to break at least the bad luck element of the Pact. From what I've observed the bad luck aspect seems to affect the magical descendants much more strongly than the non-magical. Even though I live in Gotham and go out and fight crime each night, Miss McInnes is the one who has had more near-death experiences. She narrowly escaped serious injury at least a dozen times in the past year, five in the last month alone."

Alfred nodded slowly. "And if she asks questions?"

"Be circumspect. And vague. If she presses for details direct her to me."

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

TBC…


	3. A Party Crashed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hermione has uncovered some information but is interrupted before she can share it with Bruce Wayne. She is not pleased. And Bruce Wayne sees the other side of Hermione McInnes.

Hermione smiled broadly as she Apparated into a gazebo a few hundred yards away from Wayne Manor. If anyone asked she could easily lie and say a taxi dropped her off. Carefully she arranged the full floating skirts made from black, gossamer, georgette flowing from an empire bust line over the more fitted peacock-blue silk sheath with small cap sleeves decorated with jet beads around the diamond neckline. Her hair was twisted into a loose knot and secured with two pairs of decorative teak chopsticks. A small waterfall of jet drops dangled from each earlobe and a simple jet and ivory cameo pendant carved with the Pact Seal in relief strung on a black velvet ribbon around her neck rested in the hollow of her collarbone.

The only off notes were the knee-high black dragon hide boots with two-inch block heels and reinforced toes. They looked stylish and packed a mean punch. Hermione learned the hard way that pretty stilettos and ballet style shoes did squat when she had to flee or fight off an attacker without using magic. She thought about the fundraising party in full swing and decided it would be better if she did not stand out. A quick spell and the boots were overlaid with a glamour good enough to fool two senses, sight and touch. Anyone looking or brushing against her legs would see black two-inch pumps with open toes and feel bare-skin.

"Miss McInnes, you did not indicate you would be attending."

Hermione grinned at Alfred. The butler was a sweetie, much better at guilt-tripping and getting his own way than her own parents had ever been.

"I wasn't going to Alfred but I found what I was looking for." She touched the black leather tote swung over one shoulder. "I wasn't sure about Mr Wayne's schedule so I thought I'd try to catch him in case he has travelling plans."

Alfred's eyes widened slightly. "You have it with you?"

Hermione nodded. "When I realized what it could be I spent all evening verifying the data before deciding it is genuine: Robert Wayne's diary."

Alfred frowned slightly as he guided her through the foyer and into a wing away from the noise of the party, the family living areas.

Hermione ignored the inquisitive looks from the guests and the sneers from the catty glamorous socialites. She could almost predict the speculations about her association with Bruce Wayne. Something intimate but tawdry since the family retainer was leading her away from the party and into the areas where Bruce Wayne had his private rooms; probably not suited to be introduced to polite society. She smiled faintly as she wondered how they would react to a formal introduction.

"Are you certain it has the information you are looking for Miss McInnes?" Seeing her inquiring expression he expanded. "I read Robert Wayne's diary myself. Mrs Wayne was an avid historian. She spent some of her time going through the Wayne Archives herself. When she died everything was packed up and put into storage without much thought for cataloguing or organization. It was a difficult time you understand."

Hermione nodded. "Yes. But honestly Alfred I would have been very surprised if you had understood the significance of what you were reading. Robert Wayne's diary is encrypted using… very specific methods. Only someone who knew what to look for could have recognized traces of the hidden messages and decrypted it."

"How much have you translated?"

"The significant portions." Hermione admitted with a sheepish expression. "I skipped over large chunks to the specific sections that described where he hid what I've been looking for."

Alfred gave her a searching look. "Then I presume you will be willing to provide us with some explanation then. About why you are looking so hard for whatever this is."

Hermione bit her lip and hesitated. "It is Mister Wayne's decision. It is his family history."

"And he considers us his family." Alfred pointed out bluntly. "Master Richard, Master Tim, and myself."

"Then you will hear the truth for yourself." Hermione did not bother fighting. Just because she had found Robert Wayne's Diary and managed to break the arithmetic and runic keys used to encrypt it didn't mean things would be smooth sailing. There was still a very serious chance for disaster if she did not figure out a way to bypass the Pact. And since Robert Wayne was a skilled, trained wizard it would almost certainly be not easy to locate the Seal.

Alfred showed her into a small sitting room.

"Please wait here. I'll inform Master Bruce of your arrival."

Hermione examined the shelves holding best sellers and critically acclaimed fiction. She hadn't read a fictional book in ages. Firmly she ignored the temptation and pulled Robert Wayne's diary from her bag along with her grey-green notebook and tablet PC. She pulled up the files and began organizing her presentation/argument/explanation mentally. She would have to convince Bruce Wayne on the reality of magic, that his ancestors were witches and wizards, that he himself was part of a Pact that would kill him unless she managed to change things, and she needed access to the old parts of Wayne Manor especially the caves and cellars beneath to search for the Seal.

Then five minutes later she stiffened. It was muffled but unmistakable, small explosives and gunfire. Her gut clenched. Swiftly she pushed her bag, PC, and the books into a cabinet and cast a locking spell and defensive charm that combined look-by-me and kinetic shield in one. She did not have time to cast the runes necessary for an energy shield.

As she hurried out of the room her hand reached under her skirt and removed her willow wand from the thigh holster hidden under her skirt. Deftly she tucked it into her bun where it looked like an oversized decorative chopstick as she ran towards the sounds of gunfire and screaming.

She fought her way through a flood of panicked guests in expensive eveningwear. A part of her mind was amused; she could almost imagine what anyone who saw her would be thinking: She is a crazy one, running towards gunfire than safety. But Hermione knew there was no such thing as true safety when there was a lunatic around with a gun. Muggle technology was one of the main reasons why enclaves were so insistent upon upholding the Statute of Secrecy.

Then someone touched her arm. She looked up at a portly gentleman who looked faintly like Colonel Sanders.

"You should turn back Miss! The Joker and his goons are in there!"

Hermione smiled warmly. "Do not worry about me, Sir. I have some training in handling situations like these and I'm sure the police will be responding promptly. You should get to safety."

A faint smile curved her lips watched the portly gentleman rush out without trying to change her mind. She didn't blame him for following self-preservation instincts.

Hermione glanced over her shoulder and strained to listen. There was no indication that the police had arrived. She'd have to operate on the assumption they hadn't. She tucked her wand into the bun and reached under her skirt. There was a slim case in a second holster around her left thigh in addition to the wand-holster on her right. With the ease of much practice she pulled out a slender vial filled with glinting steel. Deftly she began securing the senbon needles to the material of her floating georgette skirt. She apologized to Winky before ripping the tighter underskirt along the seams on both sides up to nearly her hips.

Then she fell into a crouch and touched her calves. The glamour faded revealing her dragon hide boots. She reached into the topcuffs and extracted two vials secured in special compartments. She knew exactly what the vial in each specific pocket contained. The ones she had extracted were her smoke-bomb and tear-gas special.

She murmured the specific password and cast the charm to end the unbreakable charm and arm the now-armed grenade-vials. She twisted and tossed both vials hard past the doorway. The moment they crashed against the tile floor they broke, releasing their contents. Upon contact with air, the potion quickly evaporated into gas, expanding quickly to fill the room. Hermione smirked as she heard the yells and shouts and bursts of gunfire. Still in her crouch she ducked past the pillars framing the entryway to the Reception Room.

Fools, a small part of her mind whispered. Gas has a tendency to rise or sink. This one is rising. The quickest way to counter it is to crawl on your hands and knees. But that would be giving in, conceding someone one-upped you, too easy.

Her wand moved deftly casting wordless stunning and binding spells conjuring rope to tie up those closest to her as she made her way into the middle of the room. Then she heard the psychotic responsible for this mess laughing maniacally.

"Come out; come out, wherever you are Bats!" Then more angrily. "Show yourself! Or I swear I'll start killing! Starting with the place fillers! Where are you, you bastard?"

The police may or may not have arrived but Hermione couldn't risk waiting for them. She rose to her full height and inhaled deeply steeling her resolve, mind working out a suitable game plan. She cast a basic glamour that gave her the appearance and colouring of one of Bruce Wayne's old girlfriends, Talia Head.

"I am afraid you are mistaken. There are no bats around."

Then she cast the wandless spell that neutralized and dissipated the gaseous potion. Then a stronger pulse of a special Unspeakable hex designed to jinx complex mechanisms. She tucked her wand into her bun and pulled out half a dozen of the senbons secured in her skirt, holding them in the much practiced throwing grip.

~o~

"Where are you, you bastard?"

The Joker stared into the mist, swinging his shotgun around wildly, hoping he could nail the Bat with some lead pellets.

Then someone spoke.

"I am afraid you are mistaken. There are no bats around."

A woman. A Brit. A faint outline visible through the fog, hands held out palm down.

Wayne had a British butler. Was this dame some relative of Jeeves?

The mist began thinning enough to see her. Black hair, dark eyes, red lips, pale skin, curvy figure dressed in peacock blue and black.

The Joker grinned. "Should I call you Snow White?"

She smirked. "You can call me Mercy."

Then she flung her hands out, glints of silver flying. Then his men started falling and screaming. Reflexively The Joker pressed the trigger. And gaped.

"What the fuck!"

Full red lips curved into an amused knowing smile.

"Oh, are you having trouble performing?" Sly innuendo laced her words.

The Joker saw red. He swung his shotgun wildly using it as a club. It was a fatal mistake. He barely felt the tiny pinpricks on his face before he stiffened and fell over like a log. He could only watch with unblinking eyes as she nailed each of his gang with those bloody needles. Then she spoke to the place fillers shooing them out. They obeyed her like sheep, fleeing from the wolves.

Then she turned to him. He felt ice go down his spine at her expression. She was one of the wolves. He could see it. The Joker had a sinking feeling he'd be in safer hands with the Bats or the Birds. This dame clearly had no Mercy.

"You know, I am tired of hearing about your shenanigans on the news. I'm sick of reading the insurance reports and property damage claims caused by you and your fellow Rogues. And most of all I have zero tolerance for anyone who hurts human beings on a whim." Her tone was chillier than Freeze's ice rays as she stalked over to him. She definitely had great legs, shapely and toned, not skinny. The Joker could not entirely control the groan that escaped his lips when those sexy legs ending in boots kicked him. She knew exactly where to aim, just below the rib cage at the sides. Those boots were definitely not party shoes with those regulation steel toes. Suddenly he was very thankful for the strange paralysis because otherwise he would be in a world of pain.

"You claim to be a dog, with no direction but your whim," That definitely fractured a few ribs. "That is an insult to dogs because they are loyal! They only attack those who mistreat them!" He'd be pissing blood for a few days. "And as far as I'm concerned you are irredeemable! And unlike the Batman, you only get one free pass from me." That gorgeous cold face was just two feet away, those red perfect lips. "If you fuck up and I'm around, the only place you'll be going to is the hospital." She smiled. "With a broken spine; I'm sure paraplegia will reduce your successful escape attempts. And if you still persist and cross my path I'll give you a full frontal lobotomy." She made a weird gesture. "Do you understand me?"

The Joker blinked and carefully tested his muscles. His body was still paralysed but his facial muscles were not. He definitely wanted to know how she had done that. But more than that he wanted to know more about her.

"Will you date me?"

Those dark eyes widened then narrowed, those lush, lush lips pressed tight to a thin line. He didn't like that. He wanted to see them wrapped around his cock as her dark hair spilled over his hands.

Then she became very angry, her eyes practically spitting fire.

"Bastard!"

The Joker could not entirely stifle his scream as her booted foot came down hard on his left knee crushing it.

"I am not interested in becoming your plaything!"

His right wrist received the same treatment.

"And there is no fucking way I will ever give you a blow job!" The bones in his pelvis cracked. "Or have sex with you!" She gestured abruptly.

The Joker screamed as his pain receptors overloaded as the paralysis ended. He whimpered, trying not to move, to avoid aggravating the injuries.

She stepped back and stabbed him with those cold eyes.

"Do you understand me Jack Napier?"

The Joker moaned.

"Answer me Jack. Answer truthfully and I will knock you out. You will wake in the hospital all drugged up."

"Yes." The Rogue whimpered. "Yes. I understand."

"Remember Jack, Mercy is not for you."

She lifted her hand to her dark hair and pulled out a chopstick. Then there was a flash of red just before the world went black.

~o~

Hermione stepped back from the unconscious Rogue with an expression of faint distaste. She did not like beating targets up to make a point but some of them were too stubborn, only pain and the fear of future pain could make them stop. Of course she would have to follow through on any punishment. Inwardly she winced and hoped would not have to. Neville was better at the following through aspect of threats.

She looked around and saw the bloody foot prints around the Joker. He was bleeding sluggishly where the splintered bones had pierced through the skin. A few quick spells slowed the bleeding, removed all traces from the soles of her boots, and cleaned the footprints on the tiles.

She swiftly paced around the Reception Room casting Stupefy and Incarcerous to knock out and secure the paralysed henchmen. Once they were out she removed the senbon sticking out of their skin and slipped it into an empty vial. They would need to be sterilized and recoated with her special paralysis potion before she could use them again. A quick spell retrieved the other senbon that did not hit a target or were deflected and they too went into the vial. She inhaled deeply before slipping the vial containing the used needles into the flat pouch around her thigh.

"Where the fuck are the police?" She grumbled.

"They've been delayed."

Hermione spun around drawing her wand out from her hair, falling into a crouch to reduce the target zone for a potential attacker.

There! Navy blue robes! Badges on the arms and breast pocket areas indicating he was an Auror with the American Federation of Magical Enclaves. A few years older than her with sandy blonde hair and blue eyes.

"Name. Rank. District leader." The orders came out in a familiar clipped cadence. Team Seven had worked with Aurors in countries all across the planet. Due to their status as Hitwitches/wizards associated with the Unspeakables and reporting primarily to the ICW they outranked the common rank and file Auror of any country.

The Auror stiffened.

"I'm afraid I must arrest you for violating the Statute of Secrecy-."

"Shut the fuck up Auror!" Hermione hissed in cold irate tones as she dispelled the glamour. "Do you recognize me?" From his sudden pallor he clearly did. "I have Beta access to Unspeakable resources and I may be on inactive status but I still outrank any Auror as an ICW Hit Witch! Now answer me! Name! Rank! District leader!"

"Sam Kellier. Senior grade investigator. Edwyn Tellus."

Hermione smiled coldly. "Now that wasn't so hard, was it Kellier?" Sam Kellier just gulped and remained very still. "Since you are here you might as well answer a few other questions. Where are the Muggle police?"

The much older man quailed and collapsed like a house of cards. "They've been delayed."

"Why?"

"Magic was detected. Standard procedure is to delay the police responding to a call where magic might be involved. Especially involving a high-profile Muggle like Bruce Wayne. Once the situation has been secured, GCPD will be allowed access."

Almost-gold brown eyes ignited. The War Heroine of the Second Voldemort War spoke in glacial tones. "And just how was this delay accomplished?"

Sam Kellier winced. "Some minor traffic accidents. A bridge outage."

"Ah." A tense pause. "And how often have the American Aurors caused such delays in Gotham? It is quite a dangerous city you know." She gestured at the unconscious criminals including a particular one with white pasty skin dressed in a purple suit. "I would hate to think an honest wand-user using magic to save their own lives would have to keep fighting simply because you delayed the police." Her words were sharp, tone scathing. "And how long did it take for you to react? A full twenty minutes; too long for an Auror who should be fully capable of apparition. Why did you delay? Where is your team?"

He was silent.

"Answer my question Investigator Kellier!" Her voice cracked like a whip.

"Standard procedure is to wait, Apparate hundred yards out from any location where the Muggle police have been called in and magic has been detected. There have been too many incidents where the Aurors blindly Apparated into a full out firefight. After setting up a perimeter and talking to witnesses, one Auror will move in to investigate the cause of the magical activity and make a report before the full team moves in with Obliviators, Healers and artisans to reverse any damages."

Hermione glared hard. "Call in your team."

Kellier gulped and complied, pulling out a small polished disk from a robe pocket and speaking into it.

Four men and two women appeared in a semi-circle behind Kellier, all dressed in similar navy-blue robes. All froze upon seeing the unimpressed, angry visage of a brunette witch much shorter and younger than them. She spoke quickly, her expression indicating she would have no tolerance for back talk.

"The minions need to be memory charmed but leave The Joker to me. I used a crowd-control potion that needs to be scrubbed from the room. The paralysis potions will break down before the police can complete any blood tests. There may be a few Muggles just outside in the corridor. You may want to blur their memories as well." She glared at each one in turn. "Do not bungle this up! Most of these men and women are very influential and quite used to metahumans and unusual abilities. If you tamper too much they will suspect!"

They nodded wordlessly and started on the clean up. One going to each of the bound thugs, a second casting spells at the walls and floors to remove trace evidence, the remaining four going out to memory charm any witnesses. Hermione watched them for a few minutes before turning to Kellier.

"Why does Gotham have a different protocol?" This time her tone was reasonable and undemanding. Kellier reacted positively to the difference in tone.

"This city is crazy. The criminals here are the real nuts. The AFME ordered all wand-users to move out of Gotham years ago but there are a few Muggleborn and half-bloods who don't want to leave because they have family here. To survive the criminals, many of them violate the Statute of Secrecy, mainly Apparating away in front of Muggle witnesses. Usual procedure is for them to call the violation in; if they do so promptly and they had good cause it is no black mark on their record. Teams are dispatched to contain the damage. Most of the time it isn't too bad. Nobody wants to See or Know, especially in the poorer neighbourhoods. It is only in the rich high-class districts that we run into trouble. Mainly some greedy idiot who thinks he can force a wizard to give him a Philosophers Stone. But sometimes there are few criminal businessmen who are interested in restricted potions, magical plants and magical creatures."

"Drug dealers. Collectors." Hermione translated with a distasteful expression.

"Yes. They are especially difficult to neutralize. We have to track down any squibs or wand-users that might be part of the gang and wipe out all traces of information." He pinched the bridge of his nose. "We aren't always successful. There is one squib who always manages to elude us. We believe he might be immortal by some unknown means though no one has ever managed to prove it. Every now and then he shows up in Gotham, causes chaos and leaves." Kellier was angry. "We've tried reporting this to the Higher Ups but nothing ever gets done! The bastard is like a ghost! We don't even have a picture of him! Every time we send someone to infiltrate his gang our agent is always rooted out and killed!"

"Do you have a name? Even an alias?"

"Henri Ducard."

Kellier was taken aback by the cold vicious light that gleamed in honey brown eyes. Coral lips curved into a humourless smile.

"Ah dear old Henri, always causing problems." Then her expression lightened. "You will not have to worry about him for much longer Kellier. Steps are being taken to neutralize him. Permanently." Seeing the Aurors curious expression Hermione deigned to explain a little bit. "I'm afraid he's stepped on too many toes. He is used to the old ICW who turns a blind eye to any activities where the target victims are Muggles. Not everyone is afraid of his organization and my associates have little tolerance for bullies and murderous bigots who kill in the name of the Greater Good." Almost gold eyes gleamed. "He will be dead or a resident of Nuremberg or Azkaban inside of three years."

Kellier huffed. "I'll believe it when I see it Miss Granger. Ducard is a slippery bastard."

Hermione laughed. "And Harry is very good at his job." She turned away and walked. "Tell me Kellier, what would you do if you were told The Joker was running loose just one block away?"

The Auror followed her slowly. "I'd retreat or call in for back up Miss Granger; the bastard is an amoral, lunatic, psychopath. He is too unpredictable to take down without near lethal force. If it were up to me, I'd use the Killing Curse on him."

Hermione turned to the Auror and smirked. "Is that all? Are your perceptions so limited you do not see other options?"

Kellier frowned. "The Ministry doesn't like us tracking down Muggle criminals. The Joker is a lunatic but he is a Muggle problem."

"Bzzzt! Wrong! He is everyone's problem!"

Hermione sat on her heels in front of the unconscious criminal and began moving her wand in the delicate pattern for selective modification as she cast Obliviate to modify the Rogues memory. After a full minute she stood up and stepped back.

Kellier stared at the drooling, bleeding pasty faced Rogue. "What did you do to him?"

"Gave him a lesson in pain. Purely physical, no Unforgivable." She made a distasteful face. "He is a masochist, sadist. He gets off on pain, his, others, it doesn't matter; he needs to deal it out or feel it." Hermione shuddered. "He deliberately chooses to cross the line each and every time. He does not want to change; he does not feel remorse or regret. He enjoys destroying lives." Her eyes flashed with barely restrained anger as her hand tightened around her wand. "And you don't have to worry," She flashed a warm smile at the Auror. "I'm not going to do anything else to him today."

"Today?" Kellier inquired carefully.

"Yes today. I made a promise to dear old Jack here." Her eyes turned cold. "If he crosses the line when I'm around, I will break his spine." Kellier inhaled sharply. "And don't think I won't Auror. A rabid animal must be destroyed or leashed."

Kellier eyed the purple suited man on the floor and spoke carefully. "I think I speak for most of Gotham when I say it couldn't happen to a more deserving guy." There was a brief hesitant pause. "How long are you staying in Gotham? The Joker usually makes a break out attempt at least every three months."

Hermione laughed, a rich warm sound.

"Why Kellier, it sounds like you want me to stay and take care of the mess!" Her voice was throaty and teasing.

"As much as I hate to admit it, you are right Miss Granger. I'm just a regular Auror, I don't have your power or skill and I definitely don't have your nerve. I don't know how you and Mr Potter do it… be Judge, Jury and Executioner for the ICW."

Hermione snorted. "Most of the time, it is just a full out battle, fight or flee, kill or be killed. Dark Arts practitioners aren't the most reasonable beings or willing to negotiate or even honour terms of surrender. It is very easy to find that steel when you see the results of the atrocities they perform."

Kellier was silent for a bit. "What are you going to tell the police?"

"The usual innocent bystander bit. Wanted to see if I could help the hostages. Saw some black clad figure beat them up and then vanish. Couldn't see much from the smoke and gas. Too worried to leave just in case there are other bad guys out there."

Kellier nodded and pulled out a business card from a pocket. "My division contact information and Floo addresses. The operator at reception will pass on messages. The police will be here in a minute."

Hermione accepted the card and watched him Apparate away with a faint pop. She sighed softly and moved to tuck the card away with her wand in the thigh holster. She had just enough time to smoothen the skirts down when the SWAT team burst in.

Carefully she schooled her features as she hurried over to them.

"Officer, you wouldn't believe what just happened! There was this…"

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

Bruce Wayne excused himself from the pretty empty-headed socialite hanging on his arm and made his way to the pillar hiding a discreet side-entrance.

"What is it Alfred?"

"Miss McInnes wishes to speak with you Master Wayne. She located Robert Wayne's diary and says it is encoded. She managed to decrypt enough of the diary to determine where the Pact Seal is hidden. She is determined to see you tonight in case you happen to leave on 'business'."

Bruce nodded. It was true. In the past weeks he had vanished on 'business'. Technically Batman's business. If she had spent so many months looking and working against the clock it was understandable that she did not want to risk any potential delays. In fact he had been curious enough to give her permission to take select pieces out of the Archives so she could work on them in her hotel room late at night. They had mainly been diaries that needed to be read cover-to-cover. One of them had been Robert Wayne's personal journal. A rather scanty record from what Bruce remembered but she had asked to examine it in detail.

Then the sharp staccato of gunfire interrupted whatever response he was going to make.

Bruce hurried down the service corridors towards the Cave. He was aware of Alfred on his heels. His voice fell into lower ranges.

"Call Dick and Tim. Tell them there has been a Level 5 breach at the Manor."

Once in the Cave he changed and tapped the hidden security cameras around Wayne Manor. The standard ones had been disabled but not before Batman had determined the basics of what had happened. The Joker had hijacked one of the catering vans and used Smilex on the security guards hired for the evening. In an unexpected move, the Rogue had chosen to hide in the laundry facilities until most of the guests had arrived and the party was in full-swing before crashing it. Mentally he made a note to never host a large event at Wayne Manor. Eighty percent of the time it turned disastrous.

Then he saw something else.

A single woman in fighting through the throng, towards the gunfire and The Joker.

Hermione McInnes.

Batman cursed. He looked at Alfred. "I need you to keep an eye on the cameras and keep me updated on what she is doing."

Then he rushed off cursing the idiotic woman. Even if she was a witch with magic there was little that most magic users could do against more than twenty thugs armed with guns and more than ready to use them.

Swiftly he drew up and discarded plans. There were too many hostages including Hermione McInnes. And if The Joker had a canister of Smilex with him it could be fatal.

"Alfred, what is she doing?"

Alfred's voice came over the discreet comm low and clear. "It appears you are not the only one who carries a special kit at all times sir. She is wearing two thigh holsters, one holding her wand, the other a weapons pouch. She is removing needles and attaching them to her skirt. Oh my, I wonder if magic can repair the slits she has ripped into her skirt. Hmm, there was some kind of illusion on her legs. She definitely wasn't wearing those boots a second ago but now she is. Quite interesting, there are hidden pockets in the top of the boot cuffs. She's tossed a couple of glass vials into the Reception Room. Some kind of tear gas and smoke bomb. It is having a very strong effect on those thugs. You may want to crouch and crawl like she is doing right now."

By now Batman was in position having a good view of the hostages. Infrared glasses easily penetrated the smoke to locate all the occupants. His sharp mind factored in his observations and discarded plans. They were too spread out. The Joker was off-balance and much more volatile than usual.

His eyes widened then narrowed as several of the thugs closer to the entryway began falling unconscious before being bound by an animated length of rope that secured their legs together and their arms against their sides. Interesting. There was a brief flash of heat-light indicating just where Hermione McInnes was, crouching using the pillars as a shield but The Jokers thugs were too panicked to catch onto that.

Then the Clown began laughing maniacally. "Come out come out wherever you are Bats!" Batman restrained the urge to pounce. The Joker did not know he was there. He was assuming that Batman or one of his protégées were the only ones capable of reacting so fast to take out his men silently. "Show yourself! Or I swear I'll start killing! Starting with the place fillers! Where are you, you bastard?"

"I am afraid you are mistaken. There are no bats around."

The fog and smoke began thinning slightly. Batman put away the infrared glasses and watched as the smog dissipated fully to reveal a woman with black hair, pale skin, and red lips dressed in a slim peacock blue sheath with a black gauzy skirt and black leather boots. She moved slowly, gracefully, with her arms held out at waist level. Batman detected glints of silver between her fingers.

Alfred's voice came over the comm. "The woman in the peacock blue dress and boots is Miss McInnes. She must have used magic to disguise her appearance."

Her appearance was vaguely reminiscent of Talia. The entire effect was quite attractive. And apparently The Joker thought so too.

"Should I call you Snow White?"

She smirked. "You can call me Mercy."

Then she flung her hands out, glints of silver flying. Thugs started dropping like stones. Reflexively The Joker pulled the trigger of his gun. And gaped when nothing happened.

"What the fuck!"

Full red lips curved into an amused, knowing smile.

"Oh, are you having trouble performing?" Sly innuendo laced her words. Someone who liked to taunt her opponents like his first protégé.

Apparently The Joker did not appreciate any slurs on his manhood. He lunged forward, swinging the shotgun like a club. Batman tensed to move but Hermione McInnes could more than look after herself. Her hands brushed her skirt and flung out. Batman just barely noted the steel needles flying and hitting flesh. The Joker stiffened and collapsed like a broken doll, senbon needles sticking out of the Jokers pasty white skin like random steel thorns. Then she delivered the same treatment to each of the other thugs.

Were they dead? He pulled out his infra red glasses and found otherwise. The thugs were definitely alive but for all intents and purposes paralysed. Involuntary muscles were still functioning though. Batman wondered if he could seduce, blackmail or bribe the formula of whatever chemical she was using to coat the needles.

He watched as she released the hostages and sent them off. None of them dared to protest the sharp authoritative tone and direct orders. She definitely had some sort of military and fighting experience. Just what did she do before she started running the McInnes Trust and Research?

Once all the hostages were out she turned to The Joker. Should he reveal himself? No, he wanted to get a better profile of Hermione McInnes. Observing her reactions in a high stress situation would generate true reactions, trained or instinctive.

"You know, I am tired of hearing about your shenanigans on the news. I'm sick of reading the insurance reports and property damage claims caused by you and your fellow Rogues. And most of all, I have zero tolerance for anyone who hurts human beings on a whim." Her tone was calm but very, very cold.

And then she kicked The Joker just below the ribs. The oddest thing was The Joker did not react. Didn't he feel it?

"You claim to be a dog, with no direction but your whim," That definitely fractured a few ribs. "That is an insult to dogs because they are loyal! They only attack those who mistreat them!" Those kicks were calculated to bruise the kidneys. Nothing truly life threatening. "And as far as I'm concerned you are irredeemable! And unlike the Batman you only get one free pass from me." She crouched down and stared The Joker in the face. "If you fuck up and I'm around the only place you'll be going to is the hospital. With a broken spine; I'm sure paraplegia will reduce your successful escape attempts. And if you still persist and cross my path I'll give you a full frontal lobotomy." She made flicking gesture with her right hand. "Do you understand me?"

"Will you date me?"

Batman's eyes widened in shock. The Arkham psychologists had definitely labelled The Joker as a sadist and a few had theorised he was a masochist as well but this was not fitting his usual pattern of targeting intellectual women. He did not know anything about Hermione McInnes's true identity and work. So why-.

"Bastard!"

The Joker screamed as her foot crushed his left knee.

Batman considered his options. He could try to calm down a woman dealing out a great deal of pain on a lunatic who sort of propositioned her or he could watch.

"I am not interested in becoming your plaything!"

The right wrist received the same treatment.

Faint amusement curved Batman's lips as he watched. If she was going to kill The Joker he'd interfere. Besides it seemed like the bastard was not in any real pain. He was not screaming like most would under the same treatment.

"And there is no fucking way I will ever give you a blow job!" The bones in his pelvis cracked. "Or have sex with you!"

Batman's eyes narrowed. Where did the blow job comment come from? Did she mind read The Joker? He listened more carefully. If The Joker was truly interested in her she could be in a great deal of danger.

She made a gesture and stepped back. The Joker screamed. Batman tensed and watched. It seemed like she had ended the no-pain aspect of the paralysis.

"Do you understand me Jack Napier?"

How did she know? Batman only had the scantiest of evidence linking Jack Napier's disappearance to The Jokers debut. Even Gordon had no idea about The Jokers true birth identity.

"Answer me Jack. Answer truthfully and I will knock you out. You will wake in a nice hospital all drugged up."

"Yes." He whimpered. "Yes. I understand."

"Remember Jack, Mercy is not for you."

She lifted her hand to the bun and pulled out an oversized chopstick. Her wand. She cast a spell, a beam of red light that knocked out The Joker. Then she cast more spells that slowed down the compound fractures bleeding, cleaned the bottom of her boots and removed all traces of the bloody boot prints she made on the tiles.

Batman made a mental note of those places to run his own tests. How thoroughly did a spell remove all trace evidence?

He watched her go around the room and knock-out and bind the thugs and retrieve the senbons, even the ones on the floor. He hoped she had missed one but he doubted it. She was too thorough and careful.

Then he stiffened. Finely honed instincts screamed an intruder warning. There! A sandy haired male wearing a long blue trench coat with a design on the bicep and breast pocket. Could be useful in identifying the group he came from.

"Where the fuck are the police?"

"They've been delayed."

"Name. Rank. District leader."

She definitely had some sort of military leadership experience. Bruce had met CEOs and Generals who used those same clipped no-nonsense tones when they were near the end of their tolerance for fools.

This idiot did not have the experience to recognize that.

"I'm afraid I must arrest you for violating the Statute of Secrecy-."

"Shut the fuck up Auror!" She hissed in cold irate tones as she did something that caused her appearance to shimmer and fade to reveal her regular natural visage; strong features faintly peach tanned skin and multi-hued brown hair. "Do you recognize me?" From his sudden pallor he clearly did. "I have Beta access to Unspeakable resources and I may be on inactive status but I still outrank any Auror as an ICW Hit Witch! Now answer me! Name! Rank! District leader!"

New terms to investigate. Unspeakable. Hit Witch. Auror were magical policemen. ICW was the magical version of the UN only with more powers.

"Sam Kellier. Senior grade investigator. Edwyn Tellus."

She smiled coldly. "Now that wasn't so hard, was it Kellier?" Sam Kellier just gulped and remained very still. "Since you are here you might as well answer a few other questions. Where are the Muggle police?"

Kellier finally realised he was up against a force of nature. "They've been delayed."

"Why?"

"Magic was detected. Standard procedure is to delay the police responding to a call where magic might be involved. Especially involving a high-profile Muggle like Bruce Wayne. Once the situation has been secured GCPD will be allowed access."

Batman frowned. The magical policemen delayed the regular policemen? He did not like that. And Hermione McInnes felt the same from her cold tone.

"And just how was this delay accomplished?"

"Some minor traffic accidents. A bridge outage."

"Ah." A tense pause. "And how often have the American Aurors caused such delays in Gotham? It is quite a dangerous city you know." She gestured at the unconscious criminals including The Joker. "I would hate to think an honest wand-user using magic to save their own lives would have to keep fighting simply because you delayed the police." Her words were sharp, tone scathing. "And how long did it take for you to react? A full twenty minutes; too long for an Auror who should be fully capable of apparition. Why did you delay? Where is your team?"

He was silent.

"Answer my question Investigator Kellier!" Her voice cracked like a whip.

Batman resisted the urge to smirk. He himself was quite familiar with that tone. He used it when the members of his team screwed up due to carelessness.

"Standard procedure to wait, Apparate hundred yards out from any location where the Muggle police have been called in and magic has been detected. There have been too many incidents where the Aurors blindly Apparated into a full out firefight. After setting up a perimeter and talking to witnesses one Auror will move in to investigate the cause of the magical activity and make a report before the full team moves in with Obliviators, Healers and artisans to reverse any damages."

Hermione glared hard. "Call in your team."

Kellier complied, pulling out a small polished disk from a pocket and speaking into it.

Four men and two women appeared in a semi-circle behind Kellier, all dressed in similar navy blue robes. All froze upon seeing the unimpressed angry visage of the brunette witch much shorter and younger than them. She spoke quickly, her expression indicating she would show no tolerance for back talk.

"The minions need to be memory charmed but leave The Joker to me. I used a crowd-control potion that needs to be scrubbed from the room. The paralysis potions will break down before the police can complete any blood tests. There may be a few Muggles just outside in the corridor. You may want to blur their memories as well." She glared at each one in turn. "Do not bungle this up! Most of these men and women are very influential and quite used to metahumans and unusual abilities. If you tamper too much they will suspect!"

They nodded wordlessly and started on the clean up. One going to each of the bound thugs, a second casting spells at the walls and floors to remove trace evidence, the remaining four going out to memory charm any witnesses. Batman sincerely hoped they would miss a few spots. The average government employee would not be so thorough. But then again they had Hermione McInnes breathing on their necks to do a good job.

She watched them for a few minutes before turning to Kellier.

"Why does Gotham have a different protocol?" This time her tone was reasonable and undemanding. Kellier reacted positively to the difference in tone. And Batman was glad because he too wanted to know.

"This city is crazy. The criminals here are the real nuts. The AFME ordered all wand-users to move out of Gotham years ago but there are a few Muggleborn and half-bloods who don't want to leave because they have family here. To survive the criminals many of them violate the Statute of Secrecy, mainly Apparating away in front of Muggle witnesses. Usual procedure is for them to call the violation in; if they do so promptly and they had good cause it is no black mark on their record. Teams are dispatched to contain the damage. Most of the time it isn't too bad. Nobody wants to See or Know, especially in the poorer neighbourhoods. It is only in the rich high-class districts that we run into trouble. Mainly some greedy idiot who thinks he can force a wizard to give him a Philosophers Stone. But sometimes there are few criminal businessmen who are interested in restricted potions, magical plants and magical creatures."

"Drug dealers. Collectors." Hermione translated with a distasteful expression.

Batman felt a chill run down his spine. He remembered past cases that were bad enough with just experimental science and technology. He did not want to consider how bad things could get with magic added to the mix. Suddenly he felt very glad for the Aurors. They were doing a damn good job if he had not come across traces of wand-users in his investigations and patrols.

"Yes. They are especially difficult to neutralize. We have to track down any squibs or wand-users that might be part of the gang and wipe out all traces of information." Kellier suddenly looked and sounded like Jim Gordon, an overworked government employee trying to do the best job possible on a limited budget of man-power and money. "We aren't always successful. There is one squib who always manages to elude us. We believe he might be immortal by some unknown means though no one has ever managed to prove it. Every now and then he shows up in Gotham, causes chaos and leaves. We've tried reporting this to the Higher Ups but nothing ever gets done! The bastard is like a ghost! We don't even have a picture of him! Every time we send someone to infiltrate his gang our agent is always rooted out and killed!"

Who is it? Give me a name Kellier. You might not be able to do anything but Batman will have better luck.

"Do you have a name? Even an alias?"

"Henri Ducard."

Batman froze. Ra's al-Ghul. A squib. Born into a magical family without the amount of magic necessary to study wand magic. Suddenly everything made sickly sense. How else could he have discovered something so terrible and dangerous like the Lazarus Pits? He probably had access to old records from the magical enclaves and went looking for them. And how he and the League had avoided being detected for centuries? They probably went underground and hid in the magical enclaves.

"Ah dear old Henri, always causing problems. You will not have to worry about him for much longer Kellier. Steps are being taken to neutralize him. Permanently."

Batman blinked. She knows of Ra's? Does she know of the League? And what did she mean by permanently? He forced himself to listen and hope she'd expand. And she did.

"I'm afraid he's stepped on too many toes. He is used to the old ICW who turns a blind eye to any activities where the target victims are Muggles. Not everyone is afraid of his organization and my associates have little tolerance for bullies and murderous bigots who kill in the name of the Greater Good." She definitely knew of the League of Shadows. What other organization would be willing to kill thousands to save millions? "He will be dead or a resident of Nuremberg or Azkaban inside of three years."

Nuremberg? Azkaban? Nuremberg, the city where Nazi war criminals were tried. Could it be the name of another place, perhaps an asylum? A prison?

"I'll believe it when I see it Miss Granger. Ducard is a slippery bastard."

She laughed. "And Harry is very good at his job." She turned away and walked taking long easy strides that parted the underskirt revealing small glimpses of the thigh holsters she wore. "Tell me Kellier, what would you do if you were told The Joker was running loose just one block away?"

Kellier followed her slowly. "I'd retreat or call in for back up Miss Granger; the bastard is an amoral lunatic psychopath. He is too unpredictable to take down without near lethal force. If it were up to me I'd use the Killing Curse on him."

"Is that all? Are your perceptions so limited you do not see other options?"

"The Ministry doesn't like us tracking down Muggle criminals. The Joker is a lunatic but he is a Muggle problem."

"Bzzzt! Wrong! He is everyone's problem!"

She sat on her heels in front of The Joker and began moving her wand in the delicate pattern and cast a spell. After a full minute she stood up and stepped back.

"What did you do to him?"

"Gave him a lesson in pain. Purely physical, no Unforgivable." She made a distasteful face. "He is a masochist, sadist. He gets off on pain, his, others, it doesn't matter; he needs to deal it out or feel it. He deliberately chooses to cross the line each and every time. He does not want to change; he does not feel remorse or regret. He enjoys destroying lives." Her eyes flashed with barely restrained anger as her hand tightened around her wand. "And you don't have to worry," She flashed a warm smile at the Auror. "I'm not going to do anything else to him today."

"Today?" Kellier inquired carefully.

"Yes today. I made a promise to dear old Jack here." Her eyes turned cold. "If he crosses the line when I'm around, I will break his spine. And don't think I won't Auror. A rabid animal must be destroyed or leashed."

Batman had a feeling she would definitely do just that. The question was could he stop her if she did so? Did he even want to stop her? Kellier clearly felt the same way.

"I think I speak for most of Gotham when I say it couldn't happen to a more deserving guy. How long are you staying in Gotham? The Joker usually makes a break out attempt at least every three months."

Hermione laughed, a rich warm sound.

"Why Kellier, it sounds like you want me to stay and take care of the mess!" Her voice was throaty and teasing.

Then Alfred's voice over the comm distracted him. "Sir, the SWAT team and Commissioner Gordon are here."

"As much as I hate to admit it you are right Miss Granger. I'm just a regular Auror, I don't have your power or skill and I definitely don't have your nerve. I don't know how you and Mr Potter do it… be Judge, Jury and Executioner for the ICW."

Judge, Jury and Executioner? Was that what a Hit Witch was? Batman did not like the sound of that. He made a mental note to find out more about Hit Witches and Unspeakables. What were their powers and areas of influence?

"Most of the time it is just a full out battle, fight or flee, kill or be killed. Dark Arts practitioners aren't the most reasonable beings or willing to negotiate or even honour terms of surrender. It is very easy to find that steel when you see the results of the atrocities they perform."

That sounded more like Texas Marshals or government agents licensed to use lethal force. Presumably against violent criminals who are almost impossible to take down. Magic was trouble and add magical criminals with no regard for human life…. Batman shuddered. It was hard enough restraining the Rogues and regular criminals. He did not want to imagine how much damage an insane wand-user could do. The damage Hermione McInnes could do if she went Rogue.

Kellier was silent for a bit. "What are you going to tell the police?"

"The usual innocent by-stander bit. Wanted to see if I could help the hostages. Saw some black clad figure beat them up and then vanish. Couldn't see much from the smoke and gas. Too worried to leave just in case there are other bad guys out there."

She clearly had done this before. Lied to the non-magical authorities. She probably had to explain away a lot of death and damage if she had worked as a magical FBI agent.

Kellier nodded and pulled out a business card from a pocket. "My division contact information and Floo addresses. The operator at reception will pass on messages. The police will be here in a minute."

Hermione accepted the card and Kellier vanished with a faint pop. She tucked the card away with her wand in the thigh holster. She had just enough time to smoothen the skirts down when the SWAT team burst into the Reception Room.

Carefully she schooled her features as she hurried over to them.

"Officer, you wouldn't believe what just happened! There was this…"

Batman made his exit his mind full and racing. It was time for Bruce Wayne to make an appearance.

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

TBC…


	4. Partial Truths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce Wayne comes to a decision and family secrets are revealed.

That night Alfred found Bruce Wayne down in the Cave reviewing the tapes, critiquing her strategy, developing others based on what he had seen. She was the perfect infiltrator to take the opponents off guard. But it could have ended badly if she hadn't been so skilled and quick with those paralysing senbon needles.

Tim and Dick had watched the section where she had stomped on The Joker a half-dozen times before he had ordered them to go and sleep.

"What are you looking for Master Bruce?"

Bruce turned to his oldest and most trusted friend. "I don't know Alfred. Leverage? A weakness? A flaw?"

"And do you see any?"

"Other than her taste for violence and breaking bones?"

Alfred frowned. "Could you blame her Master Bruce? What sort of sane woman would not 'freak out' when The Joker asks her out?"

"You are right Alfred. It just scares me. She is ruthless and creative in her threats." Bruce smiled faintly. "I mean I've beaten The Joker up dozens of times but he just laughs it off. She pinpointed and targeted something that even the most insane lunatic would cherish, his mobility. However the question remains, she will follow through?"

Alfred made a soft sound. "I think the question is when Master Bruce. That young man, Sam Kellier, knows a great deal more about her than Mister Blood or yourself. He did not see her as an attractive woman but a superior officer. You only get that kind of respect by earning it in the field. I think Miss McInnes was definitely a hands-on type in her old line of work. Before she retired from being a Hit Witch. Sounds remarkably close to hit man, assassin, legal executioner, licensed to kill agent. In those circles everyone knows if you are one of the best and personal information is not freely circulated with outsiders Master Bruce. Few know of my previous employers."

Then the elderly butler studied his first charge more intently.

"What is bothering you Master Bruce?"

The younger man was quiet for a while. "Her conviction. She had enough resolve to take public unilateral action and damn the consequences. She treated The Joker like a bug, and Ra's as inconsequential and easy to deal with. I've tangled with the League of Shadows for Years and she is so certain…"

"You are forgetting the magical law enforcement has resources you don't, just like you have resources regular police do not. She has access to information and contacts you have no idea exists. You heard her yourself Master Bruce, they've known of the League of Shadows but never acted upon the information due to corrupt officials. That clearly has changed with Miss McInnes having the whip hand; she has little tolerance for bigotry or incompetence." Alfred smiled faintly. "Besides, all you have to do is wait and see if she is right in her claims. But you haven't answered my question Master Bruce. What is bothering you? It is not her fighting skill and reckless nerve, Miss Gordon and Miss Kyle share similar traits. Is it the memory modifications? She might be doing things you consider distasteful but you must remember she comes from a different culture. They developed laws to hide their existence from those who would destroy them. Would you prefer if they arrange for all witnesses to suffer from fatal accidents?"

Bruce winced and shook his head.

"Then what is it Master Bruce?"

He chewed on his lower lip and remained silent but Alfred refused to budge.

"I felt it."

Alfred was clearly confused. "Felt what?"

Bruce debated furiously before deciding he needed to spill before he exploded.

"Do you remember what I said about how Wayne's chose their spouses?"

Alfred frowned then the furrow flattened.

"Something about instant recognition."

Bruce nodded. "A small shock felt upon the first skin-on-skin contact."

"What about it?"

"I felt it."

Eyes widened in understanding. "With Miss McInnes I presume."

"Yes. It was definitely not static shock or physical attraction. She is pretty but I've seen better and I didn't know her well enough for anything else. Her request was enough to make me very wary of her. What we've found out since…" He inhaled sharply. "I don't know what I want to do Alfred."

"Why don't you tell me what you are considering?"

Bruce smiled a wry smile. "Part of me wants to run and hide. Hope I don't ever have to ever interact with her because she will change everything by her simple presence and personality. Part of me is curious. I mean it is part of my heritage Alfred! I want to know more about Robert Wayne the wizard, what other secrets did he hide? Were there other magical Wayne's? Are there forms of magic or devices that squibs can use? I mean Ra's is using something not typical to regenerate; those Lazarus Pits might have a magical aspect I don't understand. Could I learn how to develop and use magical tools? Like whatever she used to short-circuit the surveillance gear." Then he fell silent.

"What else Master Bruce?"

Bruce stared into the shadows seeing something only he could with unfocused eyes.

"And part of me is both terrified and thrilled by the shock. I've never felt it before Alfred. Not with Andrea, Vicki, Selena, Talia, or any of the others. I thought it was something my father made up until I felt it."

Absently he ran his right thumb over his fingertips remembering the faint shock of knowing he had felt when he had shaken hands with her. Ever since he had avoided contact with her, delegating the responsibility to Alfred or even Tim.

Alfred winced internally. He was used to playing voyeur to the Masters love life but he had never expected him to be a confused teenager at his age. Carefully he chose his words before speaking.

"You have two choices Master Bruce. You can pretend it doesn't exist and ignore it. Or you can choose to act upon it. Like your father did when he met your mother."

Bruce turned his head sharply. "And what kind of life can I give a woman? Long tense nights waiting to see if her husband returns uninjured? And I won't even consider retiring! Gotham needs Batman!"

Alfred raised an eyebrow. "Something she is familiar with if she is comfortable tangling with the likes of Ra's al-Ghul and The Joker. Perhaps the question should be can you handle her ways of responding to threats? Remember her vow to break The Jokers spine? And what about the types of enemies she has? Wand-users who are violently opposed to her philosophies and ethics; those who hate and commit crimes bad enough for their own government to send legislated executioners after them."

Bruce blinked. "She did say she did not want to marry and drag another into the danger of her life."

Alfred smiled. "And how did that portrait respond? Oh yes… 'Find a Wemyss son whose life is as messed up as yours and offer to help straighten it out.' Well you are a Wemyss son with a rather difficult private life Master Bruce; are you interested in applying for the position?"

Bruce thought hard and shook his head. "No. She has a life and responsibilities in Europe. All of her friends and surrogate family are there. My future lies in Gotham." His voice was faintly regretful.

Alfred cocked his head. "You could try Master Bruce. It would be good for you to have a relationship with someone who knows and is on your side of the battlefield."

Bruce shook his head. "She has plans and I doubt she will allow anything to derail them. As soon as she figures out a way to modify the Pact she will be leaving."

"Not if you give her reason not to." Alfred pointed out.

Bruce shook his head. "No. It is better for both of us that I don't. She could be a very valuable contact for Batman and I don't want to damage our relationship."

Alfred sighed. If the Master decided a specific course of action was beneficial for Batman little would deter him from it.

"You should get some rest Master Bruce. Miss McInnes said she would be arriving around one-thirty, after lunch."

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

"All right. So where is this Seal hidden?"

Hermione blinked taken aback by the quick acceptance and practical question. He had not made much of a fuss while she had explained the existence of magic and hidden enclaves. He had simply made brief but insightful observations to her demonstrations of various branches of magic and her quick synopsis on the History of Magic. He had asked more questions on the details of his family history, the Wemyss Clan, and the Pact. Hermione had believed he had just been humouring her (his voice and expression had been too calm) but clearly he believed.

A quick glance at the silent but watchful audience of three males provoked more concern. Only the youngest betrayed his eager interest but clearly they each and every one believed enough to not voice concerns as most Muggles would. Part of her wanted to grab the opportunity and push ahead before he backtracked and denied everything. The more ethical part insisted she proceed cautiously.

"Mr Wayne, are you certain you don't wish to take some time to process this information? Most Muggles, non-magicals find it difficult to accept the reality of magic and the existence of another society-."

But then he interrupted her. "Miss McInnes, there are always hidden societies and those with abilities mainstream society doesn't acknowledge." He smiled wryly. "I live in Gotham, the most dangerous city in America. I've travelled in some of the most remote regions on this planet. There are mystics and magic-users in the Justice League. If you've seen what I've seen it is very easy to believe."

She glanced at Alfred, Mr Grayson, and Tim. "And what about them?"

The teenager bounced on his toes. "Magic sounds cool."

The elderly butler blinked slowly. "It is Master Bruce's choice."

The young man nodded. "Like Alfred said, it is Bruce's choice. If he wants to believe and go digging, then more power to him."

Hermione inhaled deeply and turned to the clan Patriarch.

"Mister Wayne, you must understand, this is not something you can ignore. Once you acknowledge the Pact and its existence you become Bound to it."

"But according to what you've told me I am already under its influence. Therefore it is in my best interests to end it, fulfill its terms, or find a way around it; goals that are compatible with yours. Since you are the expert in this situation and time is a factor I will defer to your judgement for now. What do you need from me?"

Hermione shifted the print outs and Xeroxed copies before finding the relevant notes and sketches. Those she pushed across the tabletop to the billionaire.

"Robert Wayne was a skilled and far-sighted wizard. He encrypted his journal and cast some very powerful Enchantments to preserve it. I haven't translated all of it but I've deciphered enough to know what happened to the Wemyss Pact Seal.

"He brought it with him when he left Scotland. It was simply an oversized antique relic that the family never used since by tradition knowledge of the Pact was passed down and fulfilled via the main magical branch. The Wemyss Pact Seal is only needed to renew the agreement when that side of the Pact is being represented by non-magical clan members. Anyway at some point in his life Robert Wayne decided he needed a secret but accessible hiding place for the Seal and chose the caves under Wayne Manor. Those caves were eventually connected to the Manor itself via the cellars. I'm not sure if the main cellar entrance he describes still exists, but there are secondary exits including a dry well on the property grounds, a waterfall, and caves at the base of the cliffs hidden by the tides." She tapped the sketches of a floor plan and an estate map.

Bruce Wayne examined the drawings carefully and nodded. "I'm not certain of the cellar entrance myself. The Manor has been renovated, especially after it was gutted in a fire. I know of the dry well you are describing." He smiled. "I fell into the well when I was a child and explored the caves when I was older. If you describe the location where Robert hid the Seal I'm certain I can find it."

Hermione shook her head. "It will not be that easy Mr Wayne. If it was simply hidden it may have been found or destroyed by now. Since Robert Wayne hid it outside a bank vault he definitely would have taken magical precautions. It is probably warded, shielded, and cursed five ways from Sunday to have remained hidden all this time."

Bruce Wayne frowned. "If that is so how can you be so certain you can find it? There were a few magical Wayne's since Robert."

"But they would not have known where to look!" Hermione argued. "Unless they had reason to look in a particular area they would not have noticed anything." She cocked her brow. "I'm not sure how extensive a survey mapping or exploration you've done of the cave system but have you noticed anything off? Anything hidden down there?"

The billionaire glanced at his adoptive sons and butler. They were clearly uneasy as he by the blunt question. "Nothing of note." He admitted after some time.

"Precisely my point. Another witch or wizard might notice the signs. But only one with specialized training can break through any protections."

"And do you have this training?"

Hermione's response was not boastful but a statement of fact. "Yes. I've broken protections on relics and places cast by far more volatile and dangerous wand-users." Her eyes turned dim and distant for a few seconds as old memories surged to the front. Then she brought herself to the present. "Besides, if I run into any difficulties I can call in a few favours. But to be honest these protections would be subtle and tricky not powerful; if they were powerful the energy signature would be unmistakable and very traceable, like a laser diode in a dark room. There is no surrounding magical environment to mask or blur the signal."

He considered the information and her arguments.

"All right. It will take some time to pull together a few spelunking kits and get the correct equipment to go exploring the caves. I would prefer to use non-magical gear because the boys and I are familiar with it, and in case there is an accident and using familiar gear will help us react more efficiently." Hermione snapped her mouth closed. "Today is Wednesday; why don't you work on the translation and get your research and equipment together. I'll reschedule my meetings for Friday; we can start at ten and work all weekend. If we need more time I can clear the following week."

Hermione nodded. She could not find a logical reason to change the plan he proposed. She picked up the two leather bound journals on the table and began packing them away along with her tablet PC.

"Feel free to keep the notes, I have copies. I'll keep working on decrypting the rest of the journal. Once I am done I'll return it with a complete transcription and translation for you." She carefully arranged and secured the contents of the leather messenger bag. "No matter how this turns out I'm afraid I cannot continue and complete the cataloguing project. If you wish I can introduce you to a few binding and restoration experts from the Chicago or Boston enclaves. It will cost a bit but I'm sure you can afford it. You may also consider having a property warder walk through the manor and grounds in case other Wayne ancestors left any magical surprises." She produced a USB key from an inner pocket of the messenger bag and held it out. "This has a copy of my notes and translations, and what I have finished cataloguing and restoring from the storage rooms." She met dark eyes without any apprehension.

He nodded wordlessly and reached out to take the storage device.

Hermione froze when his fingers brushed against hers. She felt it, a sharp shock, a sense of knowing, a yearning for… Something. At that moment Hermione wanted to grab Bruce Wayne's hands in her own, to run her fingers along his and explore the broad blunt tips. Were they as callused as she remembered? What would it feel to have those fingers run over her sensitive spots? A soft flush suffused her skin as she jerked her hand back clenching and unclenching the appendage. No! She wanted to know what was causing those distracting feelings!

Her lips parted to voice an automatic request for information. "Did you fee-." But then a more primitive part of her mind screamed a warning and she cut herself off. "Never mind; must have been static." She quickly slung the messenger bag strap over one shoulder and picked up her coat. She met his eyes briefly. "I will see you Friday morning Mister Wayne. Will I be staying overnight or leaving the Manor in the evening?"

He considered the question before answering. "Alfred will prepare a guest room for you. Will you be checking out of your hotel suite?"

She shook her head. "I'll keep the hotel suite for now. If we do not locate the Seal this weekend I will re-evaluate my options."

She glanced at the other men and smiled politely. "I'll try not to disturb your usual routines. If you have any guests feel free to tell them I'm a historian working on a family project." Her expression turned wry. "Which is the truth." The smile faded and her expression was more calculating as she studied Richard Grayson and Tim Drake. "Since I will be seeing you again Friday I won't bother with farewells." Her lips curved into a warm generous smile as she stepped towards Alfred and embraced him, standing on tiptoe to brush a kiss against his cheek. "Thank you for being such a wonderful and patient guide. It was uncanny how you managed to anticipate whatever I could need. It must have been boring for you to follow a researcher into tomb-like storage vaults and just wait."

Alfred Pennyworth smiled and bowed slightly. "The pleasure was all mine Miss McInnes. It was wonderful talking to someone from Britain. And you were considerably less trouble than any of the young Masters or Master Bruce."

Hermione made a soft humming sound. "If you say so Alfred." She turned to the Master of Wayne Manor and spoke in more businesslike tones. "I will see you this Friday Mister Wayne. If you have any questions please make a list. If any of them might require more research feel free to use my Salem number. Have a pleasant evening. All of you."

"Would you like a drive into Gotham or would you prefer a cab?"

She turned away and took a few steps to the door where she stopped and turned back. "It is kind of you to offer but unnecessary. I will be Apparating, a variant on teleporting." She inclined her head and lowered her lashes briefly. The actions gave her the time to focus on her destination, a run-down gazebo in a park. She had plastered it with repelling and notice-me-not charms the day after she arrived in Gotham; ever since she had used it as an Apparating point to and from the hotel.

She did not need to concentrate overly hard. She had been Apparating for years, for transportation, as part of her duelling style, even blindly to reach a target. The familiar crackling sensation filled her core and then she vanished without a betraying flash of light or popping sound. Her control was that good.

~o~

The moment she vanished the four remaining occupants of Wayne Manor exhaled sharply though all of them remained alert and wary.

"Is it safe?" Tim asked hesitantly.

"It may or it may not." Bruce spoke brusquely. "Change all your clothes and meet me downstairs."

Fifteen minutes later they were in the Cave located under Wayne Manor.

"What are we going to do?" Dick wanted to know. "If she comes down here she might see something we don't want her to see. There have been very noticeable manmade changes to accommodate the vehicles, equipment and facilities."

Bruce was pulling up files from the USB key on an independent netbook.

"We're going to split up her translations and try to narrow down the location of Robert Wayne's hiding place. Then she won't have to go looking in other places."

"What if it is near the Cave?"

Bruce frowned faintly. "We will have to do some rearranging to create a few rock fall blockades, some natural and some holograms. If there is any patrolling to be done use the equipment and suits stored in the penthouse."

Alfred coughed.

"Are you considering her recommendations to contract a document restorer and property warder?"

Bruce winced. "For the cataloguing, only items that aren't too sensitive. In regards to the warding, I want to talk to Zatanna or Doctor Fate first. The Cave needs defences to stop anyone from doing what Miss McInnes just did."

"That teleportation thing? Do you think she can blindly move to a place she has never seen before?" Dick was intrigued.

Bruce's expression was dark. "I don't know but I don't want to find out the hard way. I don't want anyone blindly stumbling into the Cave."

Everyone nodded quickly in agreement. That would be a spectacular disaster.

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

Hermione stopped and looked around carefully before casting a series of spells and nodding wordlessly. The only illumination in the dark, narrow corridor were the industrial-grade lamps powered via a very long extension cord running back to the main cavern that had been wired for electricity, powered by diesel generators and illuminated by floodlights. The caverns underneath Wayne Manor were damp, cool, and foreboding. This particular passage was not wired though there were signs it had been used by men in the past; steps cut and paths cleared.

She turned to the two men standing behind her dressed in corduroy, heavy denim and reinforced work boots. She herself had chosen to dress in denim jeans and dragon hide boots with a flannel shirt and denim jacket.

"We're on the right track. This area has been warded."

Bruce frowned as he studied the unremarkable rock face. For a brief instant he had sensed something but it had vanished before he could quantify and catalogue it.

"How can you be so certain?" Dick voiced the question in the older man's mind.

The witch then cast a second spell. This one caused a series of glyphs to appear on the previously bare rock face glowing in various luminescent hues.

"Runes." She explained. "The core of a good protection ward. These are minor ones, designed to misdirect anyone wandering around. They are subtle enough to fool most magicals and weak willed non-magicals. I'm surprised you managed to get this far." She admitted. "Most people would just turn back and label this area as unremarkable."

Dick glanced at his stony jawed guardian and answered. "Yeah, well most people don't know how hard-headed Bruce can be."

Hermione glanced at the not-Muggle billionaire thoughtfully with a considering look.

"I need to follow this path. There should be a series of small dead-end caves branching out before it leads to a larger chamber with an underground river and waterfall."

Both men glanced at each other before the older one spoke.

"We know the cavern you are referring to." Bruce spoke in a deliberately carefree tone. "But I've mapped this path; it doesn't lead to the waterfall cavern. There is a rock fall dead end about six hundred feet from this point. And I don't remember seeing any dead end side rooms on this particular corridor."

Hermione frowned and glanced at her notes and began mentally mapping the information before her expression brightened.

"That is all right Mister Wayne. The alcove Robert Wayne used should be about four hundred feet ahead. Other Wayne's following him might have sealed off the other chambers. There should be four, no three on this path. The fourth would be on the other side of the rock fall." She glanced up and noticed their surprised expressions. "If you wish I can break the protection wards on the other chambers. They could contain expensive, rare or dangerous relics if so much care had been taken in warding the chambers."

Now Bruce was curious. He had spent years exploring and mapping the underground network of caverns. He knew it like the back of his hand and now he was discovering the Pact was not all the remnants of the Wayne's magical legacy.

"Just the three chambers on this side of the rock fall."

Hermione nodded absently. "As you wish, Mister Wayne."

"Bruce."

Hermione started. "Excuse me?" Her eyes lifted to meet his.

"Call me Bruce." He repeated firmly before his voice lightened. "You are returning to me a major part of my family history Miss McInnes, one I never even suspected existed." He tilted his head to one side. "Something quite personal and impossible to price."

Hermione caught her full unpainted lower lip between her teeth and worried the flesh for a few seconds before releasing it. A nervous habit that had replaced her childhood tendency to stick anything (pencils, quills, strands of hair) into her mouth and nibble.

"Very well then. Bruce." She hesitated before reciprocating the offer. "And please call me Hermione."

And then she turned away and redirected the powerful magnesium lamp beams into the ink black space ahead.

They heard her voice carry back soft and clear. "Follow me and please do not touch anything even if it does look like ordinary rock."

~o~

It took six hours for her to work through the layers of protection lining the corridor, and to break through the illusions masking the entryways to the caverns. Alfred and Tim took turns bringing down flasks of hot tea and snacks, occasionally spelling for Bruce and Dick. They could have left her alone but no one wanted to take a chance of her wandering off and discovering Secrets.

She stopped for lunch (ten minutes to eat a Panini sandwich and drink a small flask of soup) and was later dragged to the main cavern for tea. She promptly drank two cups, ate four sandwiches and hurried back to her work all within fifteen minutes leaving one exasperated butler and three amused males.

Alfred turned to Bruce and glared.

"She is worse than you, Master Bruce."

Bruce hid a smile. "Oh really Alfred, I never would have guessed." Then his expression turned sober. "Any impressions? Observations?"

"She was right about the hidden passages." Dick announced. "She broke the illusions to reveal two carved doorways that I could have sworn did not exist before she moved further into the corridor."

Bruce nodded. "Yes. She said the warding techniques were newer and not from Robert's time. She wants to find the room he protected and the Seal before working on the rest."

"She is very thorough and driven." Alfred pointed out. "Almost fanatical about safety. She nearly took Master Tim's head off when he tried to examine the carvings."

"And she gave a very good explanation for that." Bruce's voice was disapproving. "Wards tend to be keyed to a creator and allies or certain bloodlines. They could cause serious harm if the creator was excessively paranoid. It is like by-passing a sophisticated security system without the key; something not to be done by amateurs."

Dick sighed. "I just can't believe it. I mean, you hate magic Bruce! And now you find your great-great-umpteenth grand-father was a wizard!"

Bruce frowned. "I hate what the majority of the magic users who I've met have done." He corrected. "Zatanna is a good friend."

"But you don't know, Bruce." Tim piped up and shrank back at the unified attention. "I mean, you didn't suspect Miss McInnes was a witch. Maybe we've met others in Gotham. The magical policeman did say there were many living here. The average law-abiding magic user doesn't run around using magic in public where it can be seen, or telling everyone that they can cast spells with wands."

Bruce frowned then sighed. "You are right Tim. None of us would know unless we saw them doing magic or they told us." Then he frowned again. "I just can't believe how none of us detected those chambers. I used sonar to map all the caverns at least a dozen times while setting up the defences!"

Dick chewed on his lip. "I know Bruce. I helped you map the caves myself. I could have sworn there were no chambers in this passage. But you and I, we saw the doors appear out of nowhere."

"I checked it out with a hand-held scanner." Tim announced proudly. "There are some odd energy readings that resemble force-field technology around the doors but I managed to get a good enough reading of what is behind them. The first one leads to a twenty by thirty foot chamber with ten foot ceilings. The second one is smaller, twenty by twenty with ten foot ceilings. I can't get any details with the odd energy fluctuations. It is weird because before she started working the scanner detected nothing but solid stone. It must be an impressive bit of magic to fool not just biological senses but also technology that did not even exist when they set up the protections."

Bruce smiled faintly and nodded. "Yes. It would be interesting to read a deconstruction and analytical report on how wards, these particular wards, were created. It could be useful if we can duplicate them."

Dick caught on. "The Cave, safe houses, emergency exits."

Bruce nodded. "Hopefully Zatanna or Fate will be able to reverse engineer them. I would prefer to keep this in-house than contracting an enclave-."

Then all four men heard a triumphant whoop of victory echoing around.

"I'm in!"

All four rose and hurried towards the female voice echoing out from a particular passage.

They tracked the victorious cry to an ancient archway carved into the rock with odd, archaic symbols painted and etched around the lintel and within the two-foot deep entryway into a small ten by ten chamber illuminated by rays of natural light from a glass orbs suspended by chains from the rocky ceiling. There were several old travelling trunks stacked against the walls, smaller chests and boxes resting on the stone shelves carved into the wall itself.

Hermione McInnes was on her knees before a stone altar carved at the far end of the room. Hanging in a shallow depression carved out of the wall above it was a large five by three painting of a man with shoulder length black hair streaked with white drawn back in a queue. He was wearing black leather boots, un-dyed buckskin pants and a loose, white, gathered shirt with a waterfall cravat under the chin, with a knee-length loose fitting black robe-coat on top. Over his outfit a tartan plaid, broad red and black bands with very narrow white and green strips, was wrapped diagonally across his front and back, the ends dangling over one shoulder – front and back – secured by a bronze brooch shaped in a very familiar design, two circles containing a five point star with spokes to resemble a wheel.

"Hermione?" Bruce asked warily as he bent to avoid hitting his head against the low lintel. "What have you found?"

She turned and tucked the loose strands of hair that had escaped from her French braid behind one ear. Her face was almost radiant, glowing with enthusiasm and energy.

"This is it Bruce!" She glanced at the portrait. "Robert Wayne." Then she gestured at the trunks. "They are blood locked so only his descendants can open them. A drop or two on the center of the lid carvings should open them. It is an eye or a star. But before you start looking please come here."

Carefully Bruce moved into the room and sat on his heels next to the witch.

"What is it?"

"The altar itself seems to be an unmovable storage chest. Could you please bleed a drop onto the star carved in each corner?" She indicated the places and moved back. "There are a lot of protections against intruders so I'm going to step back while you do it."

Warily, Bruce considered his options. She was the specialist and the expert. If she really wanted to hurt him she could do so at any time. Besides Dick and Tim were there to stop her if anything went south.

So he waited while she moved back to stand next to his wards. Then he examined the altar himself. He could not see or feel any cracks that would indicate it was anything other than solid. But if Hermione said it was a chest she was probably right; she had been right about the hidden chambers after all. Satisfied there were no purely mechanical means of opening it up he produced a pen knife and dragged it over the fleshy part of his thumb. Carefully he squeezed the digit over the corners, bleeding into the center of the star carved into the stone at each point. The carvings glowed blue before fading. Nothing else happened.

"It glowed blue and then faded." He announced.

Her foot steps were light, almost undetectable. Then she was kneeling beside him, her thigh pressed against his knee as she leaned over the altar to examine it.

"What happened?" She sounded confused but not overly concerned. "It is a basic blood based familial rune lock! It should have opened!" She ran her hands over the carvings, tracing the runes and glyphs, searching for something off.

Then she winced jerking her hand back. "Ow!" There was a bright red bead of blood on her pointer finger where she had run it over a very detailed carving of the barbed star design. Absently she stuck the finger into her mouth and sucked.

There was a faint click and soft grating sound as the carvings on top of the altar began to rearrange and move like fluid, creating a rectangular opening that exposed a chamber hidden within the altar. There were two items within; a book bound in maroon leather with the thorny star symbol shaped in brass on the cover, a mahogany box of similar dimensions with the same symbol carved in the lid.

Hermione eagerly reached for the box, and presumably the Seal contained within. Bruce reached for the journal, curious to read an unabridged version of opinions held by his magical ancestors.

Then everything went crazy.

Liquid silver metal flowed out from a hollow hidden below the relics and leaped for them; before Bruce could duck and avoid it, or Hermione could shield or dodge it.

She screamed as a one-inch thick rope like coil of living metal wrapped itself around her left forearm, disintegrating the material of the denim jacket and flannel shirt she wore.

"Dick! Chemical torch!" His voice was low and grating.

"On it Bruce!"

Gold eyes narrowed as she pulled her wand out of the holster she wore on the outside of her right thigh and began casting a series of spells.

"Finite." To end the enchantment.

"Impedima." To slow it down.

"Evanesco." To banish it.

"Glacius." To freeze it.

Nothing worked. Desperately she looked at Bruce who was trying to uncoil the metal wrapped around his right forearm by purely physical means and failing.

Then Dick Grayson was there with a small hand-held chemical torch which had zero impact on the metal. He tried various other tools which also had no effect. Grimly he began searching for a seam, a weak point to insert a lever and pry the metal off his old guardian's arm. There was no give he could locate.

By now the metal had disintegrated the material of Bruce's forest green corduroy shirt. The coils were melding against each other and flattening to form a two inch wide band around his wrist. The same effect was replicated on her arm. Runes began appearing in the silvery metal wrapped around their wrists and connecting them.

Gold eyes went very wide as Hermione began translating them. She became frantic.

"We have to get them off!" She began tugging at the metal wrapped around her wrist. "There isn't much time!" When it refused to give she pulled her wand and cast a more dangerous combat spell.

"Lazerus!" A short five inch beam of focused red light emerged from the tip. It skittered off the silvery metal and cut a deep gouge into the stone, barely missing their legs. Dick yelped and backed away.

Bruce tensed. "Hermione! Be careful! You nearly hurt us!"

Her eyes were wild. "You don't understand! If we don't get them off now we will never be able to remove them!"

His lips tightened. "I'm sure you'll figure out a way."

"I wouldn't. It is impossible to break traditional hand fasting bracelets." An unknown male spoke in an archaically accented voice.

Hermione turned to the source. The portrait of Robert Wayne hanging above the altar. He was no longer in the poised position. He was looking down at them with faint amusement in dark eyes set under arched brows.

Bruce's eyes narrowed dangerously. "We'll see about that." His voice was low and harsh.

Then the metal connecting the two began to glow gold. Hermione cried out feeling her magic draining away to empower the enchantment. Usually the magical cost would be shared between the witch and wizard being hand fasted but in this situation it was being drawn entirely from her and she had not been prepared for it physically, magically, or mentally. The metal connection between them thinned to a cord then a hair strand before it snapped and the ends retracted into the bracelets, melding to form a seamless creation, a two-inch wide band of lustrous silver etched with runes and glyphs.

She sagged and fell over, barely catching herself on her hands and elbows.

"Hermione!" Bruce moved behind her and shifted her weight so she could sit up leaning against him. "What happened?"

She moaned softly. "Magic drain. To fuel the hand fasting bracelets."

Bruce stiffened. "Hand fasting bracelets?" His words were mild but tone anything but.

"Archaic, sexist practice. Arranged marriage. Binds two. Usually for a year and a day." She groaned and swallowed back bile. "Need Pepper-up. And a painkiller."

Then the portrait spoke in more amused tones. "I'm afraid you need much more than that Daughter of McInnes." He tilted his head to one side. "You have Moira's looks, the same mouth and chin. You could always tell when she was going to do something outrageous and scandalizing; she'd lift that chin and anyone who dared to contradict her would suffer from a humiliating public hexing."

That same chin lifted pugnaciously and gold eyes narrowed dangerously. Anyone who knew Hermione Granger would know to get out of her way and pray.

"Bastard!" She hissed as she rolled to one knee then feet, wand out casting a series of powerfully offensive and destructive curses.

Painted blue eyes widened as the air in front of the frame glowed gold deflecting the raw powerful energy away. The frame and stone around were scorched, blackened and gouged from the spells. After five minutes she backed away breathing harshly.

"Bruce, clear the chamber of the chests. I'm hope you are not too attached to the bloody portrait because I'm going to use balefire on it."

Robert Wayne's eyes widened in alarm before he relaxed and smiled.

"Are you so certain you wish to do that Daughter of McInnes? True you have my research but no book will contain the minutiae of the Pact. Do you have time to go through all the records to determine your options? It must be at least two centuries since I died and for you to have sought the Seal after so long something must be awry."

Hermione glared and refused to respond.

Bruce coughed softly and spoke. "Robert Wayne, I presume."

The portrait bowed. "At your service grand-son. The date and year?"

Bruce responded with the information. The portrait looked taken aback then thoughtful before he studied the living Wayne scion with penetrating painted eyes.

"From your reaction you have not seen Wizarding portraits." Bruce nodded. "And what of magic? You did not use a wand like the McInnes daughter."

Bruce shook his head. "I'm not a wizard. I didn't know anything of magic; no one in the family has for at least a century."

Robert absorbed the information with a pensive expression. "Expected. It had been decided that the Colonial Wayne's would avoid the enclaves and magic, to marry only Muggles and squibs to put the magic into dormancy." Seeing their shocked expressions he explained why with a sardonic smile. "To avoid effects of the Pact. My own mother and sisters were killed when the Family Heads delayed renewing the Pact over some petty slight. I was determined to end the Pact and took the Seal when I left Scotland to aid me in my quest. I failed but I did determine the best way to protect my family was to avoid magic and to allow the gift to go dormant. To comply with the Pact as much as possible."

"And what of the family legend? How Wayne's choose their spouses?" Bruce fought to keep his voice steady.

Robert blinked. "It still works?" Then he smirked. "It was a tricky bit of magic, binding a recognition charm in the blood. My grand-children chose well but I wasn't sure how long the curse would have lasted."

Bruce gritted his teeth. "It worked. At least for most of the Wayne's who kept journals that still exist to this day. My parents included."

Robert nodded slowly. "But not you. You are unmarried and far past the typical age of wooing and wedding."

Bruce bit back a snarl while the other males snickered.

Hermione frowned. "You have not given me a good enough reason to not destroy your portrait Robert Wayne."

The portrait turned to her. "Tell me Daughter of McInnes, do you wish to see an end to the Pact? Are you not tired of living with the threat of misfortune plaguing your kin?"

"Of course!"

"And what makes you think I did not feel the same when I arranged for this." He gestured around at the small cavern, the chests stacked against the walls and on the stone shelves. "Why do you think my grand-son alone failed to open the vault, why the two of you have been bound?"

Hermione recoiled away. Her mouth open then shut, no sounds coming out.

Bruce frowned and turned to the portrait. His voice was harsh and curt. "Explain."

And then the portrait did.

"I spent my entire lifetime examining the Pact and the Seal. It Cannot Be Broken. The only way to end it is to unite the main lines of both families. An impossible feat given the bad blood and long memories between them and the arrogance of the Family Heads when I was still alive. I conducted several Arithmantic studies to determine a scenario where that might happen before reaching one taking place many decades in the future. Time was the only variable that favoured an end to the Pact. Time to dull memories, time for the Pact to whittle away the main branches, time for the Headship to fall onto less traditional, more pragmatic and flexible branches, time for things to become desperate enough for both families to let go of old ways and to move forward.

"Even with the new traditions I started in the New World, I knew the Pact could not be held off forever. Sooner or later it would kill enough of both families for the Headship to fall onto one of the cadet branches with almost no knowledge of the Pact." He smiled grimly. "Or even if they did know of the Pact eventually they would go seeking the Seal in a quest to either renew or break the Pact. It was my belief at that point in time the Heads would be more amenable to considering an alternative way. My way."

"And what way is that?" Hermione asked, her voice raspy.

Robert smirked. "Tell me Daughter of McInnes, who are the current Heads?"

Hermione bit her lip. "I am for the McInnes. No one has succeeded in laying claim to the Wemyss Vaults and Estates since the last Head died, though many have tried."

Robert nodded. "Then the Headship for the Wemyss is open. I am almost certain of at least one condition to lay claim. You may wish to take my grand-son and the Seal to the closest Gringotts branch to confirm it."

Hermione went very still. "The Seal." She whispered.

"Yes. I believe it would be one of the conditions to claim the Wemyss Headship once the main line died out."

"But why?" Hermione whispered.

Robert studied her carefully. "Why have you searched the New World for the Seal?"

"Because there are no more magical Wemyss. And all those from the cadet lines have forgotten. They didn't have the Seal needed to renew or break the Pact."

"So you sought the Seal. Because there is no Head or suitable candidate in the Old World. Because you are desperate and willing to risk anything."

Hermione glared and refused to answer. Robert chuckled and continued.

"Do not be so irked Daughter. I spent many years considering the possibilities. Only one looking to renew the Pact would seek the Seal giving the branch of the family holding it the chance to lay claim on the Wemyss holdings."

"To become the new Wemyss Head." Hermione whispered.

"And to have the chance to end this." There was no give in the portrait's voice, just pure steel through and through, something very familiar to Alfred, Dick and Tim. "The stone vault you opened was sealed with more than familial wards. They would only allow two individuals of specific criteria access: One male, one female; one of Wemyss blood, the other of McInnes lineage; healthy, fertile and free of any matrimonial bonds. The hand-fasting is to fulfill the Pact and to secure time to Break it. I had planned for it to happen in the next generation, the son or daughter of this union to wed into the McInnes main line. I had never thought the McInnes Head would be a woman or that she herself would seek the Seal." He smirked. "A satisfactory turn of affairs."

Hermione recoiled. "You can't be serious! You manipulated and tricked us into this hand-fasting! I don't want to marry Bruce!"

All the males including the portrait blinked. Then Robert recovered first.

"It does not have to be forever Daughter. A year and a day. A magical union to fulfil the terms of the Pact. One between the Heads of both families that will end it."

Hermione glared at the portrait. "You can't force us!"

Robert blinked mildly. "I won't have to. The both of you are reasonably young, healthy, and fertile; nature and proximity will do the rest. This will be a true union even if is not an eternal one."

The witch clenched and unclenched her hand spasmodically around her wand. "We'll see about that!"

She spat out a litany of Gaelic curses that caused the portrait to blink before spinning around on one booted foot and stomping out of the chamber, elbowing past the silent audience. Tim hurried after her without any instruction; she could not be allowed to wander around by herself and she was too angry to be around an adult male.

The portrait looked mildly impressed. "What filthy language! Much more colourful than the average sailor or boatswain. Are all women as free and vivid or is she an exception?"

Bruce stared at the portrait, uncertain of how to respond to the situation. Then he remembered just what had been done to him and Hermione.

"You've missed women's liberation and the feminist movements. Women today are free to do as they choose. They study what they want, apply for jobs in industries they like, live independently, have lovers and children without getting married." His voice turned steely. "Freedom to choose and act is very important to all men and women. You've taken away our Choice. It is not something that can be forgotten or forgiven."

The portrait blinked and nodded. "You are right. The world has changed. But the Pact has not. You are still free to choose how to react to the situation; to work with the constraints or against them."

Bruce stared at the portrait torn between conflicting wildly-emotional urges.

Alfred hesitated before approaching his oldest charge that looked very lost.

"Master Bruce? Do you have any ideas about what to do?"

Bruce sighed. "Not really Alfred." Then he turned to the portrait. "Can I move you upstairs? Or do I have to come down here to talk to you?"

"The latter." Robert answered after some thought. "I prefer to remain down here. At least until I am certain your betrothed has cooled down and accepted the situation. I don't want to be burned to cinders by an irate witch."

Bruce nodded. "Okay." He turned to Alfred. "For now, let's move just the chests upstairs. Once Hermione calms down, I'll ask her to help us go through them."

"As you wish Master Bruce." Alfred hurried out of the small chamber.

Dick shifted slightly. "What do you want me to do Bruce?"

"Help Alfred move the chests. I want all of them in a wired secure room with good lighting. One of the reinforced cellar rooms."

"On it Bruce." Then he too left.

Bruce waited a few seconds before turning to the portrait with a hard expression and speaking in a low grating voice. "You and I are going to have a little talk."

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

TBC…


	5. More Secrets Revealed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce and Hermione reach an accommodation. And Hermione puts more disparate pieces together.

An hour later Bruce walked into the kitchen. Dick was eating a sandwich from a half finished platter. Wearily the Master of the Manor grabbed and ate two before speaking.

"How is she?"

"Pissed." Was the brief, succinct response. "You need to redecorate and replace some of the furnishings in the guest room. She repaired what she could but a lot were incinerated. Tim is with her. She's helping him with calculus; he doesn't really need it but it is a good distraction from the situation." Then Dick Grayson sat up straight. "What did else did you get old Rob to cough up?"

"A lot. Some interesting, some irrelevant, some useful." Bruce rubbed his face. "It is dangerous to break a hand fasting bond. It has only been done successfully twice; and in the process all the parties involved damaged their magical cores permanently. I don't think Hermione would want to risk that. Besides, the hand fastening is not truly permanent, a year and a day. However the terms bother me."

"And what, pray tell, are those terms?" A feminine voice that could etch acid interjected.

Both males turned to the doorway. She had showered and changed into a flowing calf-length skirt of navy blue jersey knit and a creamy linen tunic with embroidery around the hem, neckline and cuffs of the wrist-length sleeves. On her feet were cream open-toed sling-backs with cork wedge heels. Her hair was damp and curling in ringlets around her face and down her back. Her face was free from make up, her lips pale and pressed tight together in a thin line.

She refused the sandwich platter held up in a wordless offering and instead took a seat at the table.

Bruce caught Dick's eye and jerked his chin. Dick frowned slightly but did not protest as he stood up taking his plate with him to give the two some privacy.

Bruce studied her with sharp eyes before speaking. "I spoke with Robert. As far as he knows, the hand fasting bond has been broken twice before but afterwards those involved were unable to use magic, their magical cores had been permanently damaged." Hermione paled. "A year and a day is not bad considering the alternative is until death do us part." Bruce pointed out mildly.

Hermione considered the information. "What is the downside?" She asked bluntly.

Bruce tapped the silver band around his right wrist. "The runes describe the terms of our hand fasting union. We are Bound. Literally. We cannot be separated more than five miles without being subject to low-grade pain that increases with distance. The only way around that is to seal the hand fasting. After that we will be able to separate for a maximum of five days at which time the hand fasting seal would have to be renewed." He looked faintly uncomfortable. "Any time we are separated more than fifteen miles the bands will induce a low-level anxiety that will persist until we make skin-to-skin contact."

Hermione bit her lip. "And just how is the hand fasting sealed?"

Bruce went very still. It was sometime before he responded. "With sex."

To his shock she just nodded slightly. "I thought it would be something like that." Then she pinched the bridge of her nose and inhaled deeply before meeting his eyes squarely. "Bruce, you are an attractive man but you are practically a stranger. I don't do one-night stands or the bar scene. Right now sex is completely out of the question. I would prefer to at least be friends before taking that step."

Bruce considered her words. "I need to go downtown, and travel for business reasons."

Hermione waved her hand. "Just let me know ahead of time and I can accommodate. An unused suite close to Wayne Towers is good. You can drop me off on your way in. If you need to travel, make up a story for the media." She met his eyes squarely. "It is only a year and a day. If you wish to date I have no issues. We'll just have to make similar arrangements."

"And what about you?" Bruce inquired in a mildly challenging voice. "Any lovers back home that would take offence?"

To his shock she just smiled. "None. I've found a vibrator is less trouble than a man."

Bruce couldn't help but smile back at her blunt words. "A vibrator can't keep you warm at night." He teased.

"I know several good warming charms that can do just that." She shot back.

And then both of them laughed. Hermione reached out for a sandwich and took a bite.

"What about your work? Or do you have regular hours?"

Hermione chewed and swallowed before answering. "I'm not chained to one desk. I have been travelling this past year, mainly checking up on old assets. I might have to assign that work to someone else and read the reports." She tapped a nail against the tabletop. "What I will miss are my libraries. It is too much trouble to move all of it for just one year. We may need to make trips to Britain. By magical means; plane would take to long. International trains leave twice a day from Salem. It would take about an hour to get to London."

"Trains to Europe?" Bruce was incredulous.

Hermione blinked. "We don't use airplanes. The main form of international travel is magical trains that use the planets natural ley lines as tracks. The trains shift out of this dimension and come back into this reality at a different point in space. It can be done almost instantaneously but for a train carrying hundreds of different magical signatures the usual safety leeway for intercontinental travel is an hour into the future."

Bruce considered the information. "Can anyone use it?"

Hermione thought for a moment. "Not really. You could buy tickets for say Tim or Alfred but they won't be able to use them unless they are registered as In-The-Know with an enclave. I could register them. So could you if you lay claim on the Wemyss holdings." Her eyes were shrewd. "If you do, it would solve a lot of problems including breaking the Pact. So no one else will have to go through this mess in the future."

Bruce was quiet for a second. "I'll think about it."

Hermione nodded and stood up to leave without a word.

Bruce abandoned his half-eaten sandwich and leaned back in his chair.

He really didn't need to think about it. He was going to claim the Wemyss holdings. It would give him access to assets and knowledge that could be helpful to Batman. What did affect him was Hermione's reluctance to seal the Pact. He could understand her view; and if it were an ordinary situation he would be more than willing to give her time, or even just rearrange his life for a year to work with her. And if she never felt comfortable enough for an intimate encounter it wasn't like he was in a steady relationship or wanted one. What did concern him were its effects on his activities as Batman.

As long as he was bound to remain within five miles of Hermione Batman could not go out on patrol. She would feel the pain and wonder what he was doing, sneaking out in the middle of the night for no apparent reason. Nightwing, Robin and Batgirl could take over patrolling for a few weeks but sooner or later the criminals would notice and wonder. And there was the League. He would have to talk to Jonn'z about being taken off the active roster. But what if there was an emergency?

His mind worked rapidly considering and discarding options before settling on one that was most acceptable. He would have to seduce Hermione McInnes. Very carefully. He didn't want her to form a genuine attachment or to put her in any danger. Even if she could definitely look after herself given how she handled The Joker. A faint smile lifted one corner of his mouth as he remembered just how ruthlessly she had inflicted calculated damage on the Rogue. He definitely did not want to be the target of her rage.

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

Hermione frowned slightly as she put down the magazine she was reading. Usually she read the national and international papers but curiosity made her randomly pick up one of the local publications that were delivered to Wayne Manor. The residents did not always have time to read the print copies but they were always available. If she were back home in Britain, Hermione probably would have retreated to her private library after dinner. But since she was a guest in a near-stranger's home she felt the urge to at least try and be social.

"Herbal tea, Miss McInnes?"

"You know me best Alfred."

She smiled at the butler. She missed having her House Elves around. Winky, Button and Thimble had become family, nagging relatives who kept her alive and grounded. But she felt uncomfortable summoning them in Wayne Manor. No matter how quickly and positively Bruce Wayne and his inner circle had adjusted to the idea of a magical society she did not want to rock the boat by introducing over enthusiastic brownie-like servants to the household.

"Thank you."

She accepted the cup of camomile tea sweetened with honey. It had become a routine, after dinner she'd chat with the residents about their day; then catch up on the news or her correspondence with a cup of herbal tea. Afterwards she would retire to her suite for a soothing tub bath and bed. But today only the Master of the Manor was present. Tim and Dick had retired citing other entertainment plans for the night. And Bruce was pacing around the private reading room like a caged tiger. Hermione had the impression if she hadn't been present he would have followed the boys to whatever night club or rave they were going to.

"They can take care of themselves you know. Tim is very mature for his age and Dick is an independent adult." She spoke casually without looking up.

Bruce turned away from the window sharply. "Excuse me?"

She lifted her face from the magazine she was reading. "You are pacing around like a mother dragon whose single hatchling is taking first flight."

Bruce blinked. "Dragons are real?"

"So are phoenixes, basilisks, unicorns and a whole lot of other creatures. You know that Bruce! You've seen the goblins of Gringotts for yourself! Now sit down and stop worrying! They are good boys. You did a good job raising them. They won't do anything too foolish."

His lips quivered faintly as he fought to repress the urge to smile. "Too foolish?"

She grinned. "One is a teenage boy the other is a young man still finding his place in the world. Of course they are going to screw up along the way. And like any parent you will watch that happen and wait for them to ask for help." Her voice turned serious. "If you do not wait they will rightly believe you do not trust them."

He inhaled deeply, his face twitched before settling into a rueful expression. "All right, you've caught me. Every time the boys go out I worry. This is Gotham, the most dangerous city in America."

"And yet you still live here."

"It is home."

The answer was something Hermione understood very well. England and the wizarding world was her home; she could not run and hide when Voldemort terrorized her friends and family, or when the purebloods tried to assert their power in the Rebuilding.

She inclined her head and returned back to reading one of the lead stories in 'Gotham Life' discussing the local vigilante, Batman.

Absently she drank her herbal tea while she digested the article. In the past six weeks there had been no solid Batman sightings. Crimes were thwarted and criminals were apprehended by the rest of the Clan (Nightwing, Robin, Batgirl) but not Batman. There was some speculation Batman was on a JLA mission but that too turned out to be a dead-end. No one truly believed he was dead (someone would have claimed credit for it) but no one knew where he was (probably on some dangerous investigation abroad).

Hermione had never seen the Dark Knight or any of the Gotham vigilantes; mainly because she had secluded herself with work and research ever since she arrived in Gotham. She had read the news on the latest Arkham break-out and attention-seeking criminals for purely professional reasons and marvelled at the universal idiocy of bureaucracies. A chain was only as strong as its weakest link and Hermione used that maxim to limit the circle of people around her to those she knew were capable and trustworthy. Absently she put down the magazine and sipped on her cooling tea as her thoughts turned to her host.

Bruce had surprised her with his restraint the first time he had been exposed to Boston's premier magical shopping district, Illumina Square. Gringotts Boston located on the corner of Earl Grey Lane and Darjeeling Street had been quite a change of pace for someone used to the cool deferential respect the Wayne name evoked in Muggle high-finance. In American wizarding society Wayne was an old name but a very odd family given how they chose to live apart of magical society. The Wayne magical holdings were modest and invested purely in fixed income securities. The Wemyss holdings were more extensive but in bad shape due to poor diversification and destruction caused by the activities of recent Dark Lords and wars. Bruce had spent a great deal of time going through the ledgers and cutting out the dead wood and making fresh investments very much like she had when she made her claim. And like how she sought out and trusted the advice of Leda McInnes, so did Bruce. Only he spent hours talking with that bastard Robert Wayne.

Whenever Bruce needed to go downtown, Hermione worked on restoring and cataloguing the relics stored in the archives that were moved to a condo unit located a few blocks away from Wayne Tower. When Bruce worked from his home office Hermione went through the chests from Robert and Solomon Wayne's sealed chambers, examining testing and cataloguing the contents. Some times Bruce would join her and make thoughtful inquiries and insightful comments about the magical theories and objects he was studying with the help of Robert Wayne. Despite having no formal education or strong ability in magic he was surprisingly good at deducing the pivot points.

In the hours they spent working together, Hermione clearly saw another side of the playboy: the shrewd, calculating, pragmatic businessman who was unafraid to bet heavily and take risks; the intellectual who wanted to know more than just the how of a topic; the very dedicated athlete (he spent two hours each day before breakfast in a very well equipped gym and dojo). He wanted to know everything, he pushed himself past his limits; he was fiercely protective of his family.

She bit her lip and watched Bruce Wayne pull the heavy velvet curtains aside, to look at the bat silhouette cast by the powerful floodlight on the GCPD roof against the cloudy night sky. He was dressed in olive khakis with a cream cable-knit sweater, but there was something about his stance, his profile…. Gold eyes widened as her sharp trained mind began rearranging pieces and connecting apparently disparate pieces.

Her breath hitched as she put her cup down with a faint clink and straightened toned legs folded underneath her to stand up fluidly. The charcoal jersey knit material of her skirt flowed around her legs to her bare feet. Absently she straightened the tailored, un-dyed linen and lace blouse she had chosen to wear with the skirt as she considered different options and discarded them before settling on one; bluntness.

"Do you have to be out there tonight?"

He turned to look at her with narrow opaque eyes before his features arranged into the familiar expression of the Playboy. "Excuse me?"

~o~

Bruce stiffened at that unexpectedly-blunt question. Deciding dimness was his best option he immediately adopted the Playboy Persona. "Excuse me?"

Her head cocked to one side causing the unrestrained curls to flow over one shoulder. His first instinct was to reach out and touch those curls; were they as soft and springy as they looked? He clenched his fist and thrust it into one pocket.

He forced a casual laugh. "I do spend a lot of evenings out. I'm not used to working so hard or staying at home."

She studied him with those unblinking gold eyes, cat eyes. "You are lying. At least about the working hard part. You are one of the most driven people I've met Bruce." She pursed her lips and blew softly. "Tell me Bruce, do you have to be out there tonight?"

He was not sure how could she was at mind reading or lie detecting. Did she suspect something or was she just fishing? Bruce was not used to dithering but even his Batman persona was uncertain of what to do. They simply did not have enough information on wand-users or, more accurately, just what one Hermione McInnes was capable of.

Deciding to err on the side of caution he answered honestly.

"Yes."

She nodded slowly before speaking.

"Does Bruce Wayne have to be out there or does Batman?"

Those words had the effect of a pound of C4 on his world view.

~o~

He stiffened. It was a very faint tell but for someone who had interrogated and pried nuggets from some of the most insane witches and wizards it was a scream. His body was as tense as a Manticore on the defensive.

Deciding it was best to defuse his paranoia she gave it to him with both barrels.

"Don't worry; it wasn't anything most people would notice. And I did not do any mind reading tricks or snooping around the Manor. I'm sure you can account for almost every minute of my stay here. It was something I noted long before I even met you. Combined with what I've observed about your character and your actions." She gestured at the curtain. "You were looking at the signal with fear, anger, and impatience. Like you wanted to be elsewhere; out there." She smiled faintly. "And you don't have to worry, I won't tell anyone; it will be just one of many secrets I keep. If it will make you feel better I can swear a magical oath to that effect."

"Don't bother." His voice was low and harsh. Very dangerous.

Hermione nodded slowly. "Okay. You still haven't answered my question. Do you have to be out there tonight?"

"They are out there without me."

Hermione latched onto a specific word. "They?" Her mind raced shifting data to draw out a pattern. "Tim and Dick? Robin and Nightwing?" He nodded shallowly. She hummed softly and factored in the new information before coming to a decision.

Three long strides and she was standing next to him. She grabbed his wrist and began walking. He was forced to follow when her finger tips danced over a particular nerve cluster on his inner wrist in a warning fashion.

"What are you doing?"

"Going to my room."

"And just why are you dragging me along?"

She stopped and turned to look him in the eye.

"Look. Do you want to be out there? Or would you rather be tethered to me on a very short leash until the year is up?"

Dark eyes widened slightly before narrowing. "Not like this. You do not want to do this. It feels too much like rape."

She made a soft huffing sound. "It is not rape. I am freely consenting-."

"So do prostitutes." He interrupted harshly. "Only they do it to survive; you are agreeing to sacrifice yourself to save others."

She blinked taken aback by his blunt words. Her grip on his wrist loosened enough for him to get free and step back. Then to his shock she did not take insult but responded calmly. "I outgrew that tendency a long time ago. Nowadays I know exactly what I am worth. When I bend it will be on my terms or not at all."

He raised a sceptical brow. "You ignored all my overtures and gave me every impression you would prefer to wait the hand fasting year out without Sealing it. And now you tell me you've changed your mind about waiting? Just after you somehow deduced my secrets? What do expect me-?"

She pressed a finger against his lips, cutting him off. "I'm not being a martyr Bruce. It's just that I have to be careful about my relationships."

He pulled away enough to speak. "Why?"

"My parents and friends have been attacked due to the nature of my choices and work, opponents who are trying to make me back down." She explained. "After my father was seriously injured my parents ended all contact with me and to this day they have refused to respond to any letters or phone calls." She laughed; a bitter sound. "It hurt but I have accepted it; war and my experiences have made me more pragmatic and ruthless than what they are comfortable with. Besides, I am an adult, and things had been strained ever since I received my Letter and started attending Hogwarts.

"After the first incident I took precautions. My friends and colleagues are always made aware of the risk of being associated with me. Even after I went inactive there were attempts to harm those around me. All in all I've had three serious relationships. One was injured seriously. Gareth," She inhaled sharply. "Gareth was killed. There is a very real chance you will be too if the wrong people find out."

He looked less angry and more thoughtful. "You blame yourself? Why? They could have been attacked for other reasons."

She laughed sharp humourless. "The ones responsible left very clear messages behind in each case. In Gareth's case it was written on the wall in his blood. Literally." She looked very tired. "After that celibacy looked very attractive."

"And you are changing your mind now because…?" He trailed off inquiringly.

Hermione was silent while she organized her thoughts. Then she spoke slowly, softly then more quickly, firmly.

"There are benefits for both of us, personal and not. The bloody Pact can be done with. I can move around without worrying about impending disaster befalling me. I won't feel guilty about cousins who I've never met dying because of my hang-ups. It would be nice to have a lover who can hopefully look after himself if things go pear-shaped. One who should be half-way decent based on my personal observations. One who is not looking to change me into a woman who fits his perceptions of an ideal girlfriend. One who understands the need to compartmentalize, to keep secrets and public images. One who agrees this is only going to be a temporary arrangement, one year and we are done; the public doesn't find out, we lead separate lives, no guilt no regrets, we part as friends. Do you think you are mature enough to handle it?" Her tone practically challenged him.

He smiled faintly. "That sounds perfectly reasonable. About keeping it a secret, I doubt that is possible within the household though any outsiders can be easily misinformed."

She considered the qualifier and nodded. "All right. The household can know. But I don't want them treating me like some gold-digger." She added sharply.

Bruce snorted. "Don't worry. I'll make it very clear to them. About birth control…"

Hermione frowned. "That might be a bit of an issue." She admitted. She lifted her wrist with the silver hand fasting band and traced some of the runes there. "I've been studying the runes in more detail. There are specific components in regards to fertility. Hand-fastings were used to encourage," She hesitated, "fruitful unions. The betrothal becomes a permanent marriage if a child is conceived or born within the year. I'm not quite sure about the effects of the fertility runes on contraceptive potions."

"Then we should use purely non-magical methods. Birth control pills and condoms."

She chewed on her lip. "I'll need to see a doctor for a prescription."

"I know one who can keep secrets. She treats any serious injuries we get."

"All right. If you trust her I guess I can as well. When-."

"Later. I have condoms for tonight."

Her heart skipped a beat when he grabbed her wrist and jerked her towards him before pressing a hard kiss upon her, swamping her senses and awakening long dormant needs. Her bare feet slipped on polished wood and tiled floors as he tugged her along, out of the reading room, through the maze of corridors, and to his bedroom.

Hermione had expected him to be quick since he was in a hurry to get out of the Manor but she hoped he wouldn't rush and leave her wanting.

She wasn't disappointed.

~o~

Over the next two hours she discovered there were definitely advantages to having an older, experienced lover. Bruce was intense, impatient and firm but all the same very considerate and she understood; it had been a long time for her and he needed to the illusion of control, of being in charge so she allowed him to set the pace.

When he slipped out of bed she was barely aware of him pulling the sheets up to cover her nude, sticky body. She didn't feel the kiss he brushed against her sweat dampened curls before he left the moon-lit room, closing the door behind him.

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

Robin blinked as bat-shaped shuriken came from the wrong angle to pin the Penguins lower-level minions to the crates behind them. While they tried to tug their clothes free Robin pounced and knocked them out cold.

Swiftly he secured them before tapping on his comm. "Batgirl, this is Robin. Have you completed your patrol route?"

Her response came back clear and confused. "No. I'm still near Front and Ninth. Do you need back up?"

Robin blinked. "No. But someone just used bat-a-rangs to pin my perps."

"Because you were taking too much time with them." A familiar gravely voice came over the comm. "Usual regroup point."

Robin grinned as he pulled out his grappling gun. Batman was back!

~o~

Ten minutes later he was on an office building rooftop near the Clock Tower. And the last one apparently. Nightwing, Batgirl and Batman were already there.

"Sorry I'm late. I had to stop a mugger."

Nightwing grinned. "Sure you did squirt. Before the meeting was called."

Robin scowled and turned to Batman.

"What happened? I thought you couldn't leave the Manor."

Batman shifted slightly. "She knows."

Nightwing and Robin stiffened. Batgirl looked confused.

"What?" "How?" The younger males spoke in unison.

"I'm not entirely sure myself." Batman admitted. "It was what we were concerned about. She managed to piece together enough of her observations and come to an accurate conclusion."

"What is going on?" Batgirl wanted to know. "Who knows?"

Batman hesitated. "I have a guest doing some personal historical research. Despite the usual precautions, she has assembled a fairly accurate psych profile of me and noticed some things did not fit. She doesn't know of Batgirls civilian identity and it is going to stay that way. So far only Batman, Nightwing, and Robin have been compromised. Try to avoid visiting the Manor for a few weeks while I figure something out."

Batgirl stiffened. "Will she tell?"

Batman considered the question before answering honestly. "I doubt it. She has her own secrets to keep and she made a fairly significant goodwill gesture." He glanced at Nightwing and Robin. "I'll meet you at the Cave."

~o~

Fifteen minutes later, Nightwing and Robin were in the Cave waiting for their mentor to show up. Both of them were in full costume.

Robin tugged off his mask and removed his cape tossing both items on the table.

"What's taking him so long?"

The gravely voice of their mentor carried clearly across the Cave.

"I needed to make a stop upstairs."

Dick pulled off his own domino mask and blinked. "Upstairs? In costume?" He waved at his mentor who was fully suited with the exception of his gloves held in one hand.

The older man tugged off his cowl and sat down, tossing his gloves on the table.

"Hermione knows and I didn't want to wait."

Tim sat down gingerly. "I thought you could not be separated from Hermione for more than five miles. Was she at a safehouse waiting? Or did she figure out a way to break the hand fasting?"

Bruce smiled sardonically and pushed back the right sleeve far enough to expose the silver band around his wrist.

"Does that answer your question?"

Blue eyes widened when Dick put the pieces together.

"You mean… You and Her… The two of you…" He stuttered trying to figure out a diplomatic phrasing and failing.

Then Bruce took pity on him. "Yes. When Hermione realized I am Batman she insisted on sealing the hand fasting. And sending me out to do my job."

Dick laughed softly. "Figures. You had absolutely zero luck changing her mind. The only reason why she did agree to sleep with you is because if she doesn't you can't chase the bad guys down."

Bruce scowled and frowned. "That is pretty accurate. She said she would have been happy to just wait the year out but discovering I have a very valid reason to move freely and rapidly changed the situation."

Both younger males sobered quickly.

"So what now?" Tim asked softly.

Bruce glanced at the silver wrapped around his wrist. "The hand fasting still holds. The anxiety is controllable. We need to experiment and find out if distance and time are factors on the stress induced. Hermione mentioned it might be possible to work around that by carrying vials of each others blood with us, to mimic each others presence. But even so it is not a permanent solution, just a stop-gap measure."

Dick absorbed the information. "So when you went upstairs."

"I needed to touch her. To end the induced sensations of anxiety. It is tolerable but it could become worse so I need to test the limits before going back on patrols. Going on League missions is out of the question for now. Not until we figure out a way around the five-day separation limit."

Tim hesitated. "What do we do now Bruce? I mean do we tell her everything or try to keep her out of the loop? Do we pretend everything is normal upstairs?"

Bruce was quiet for a few minutes. "She does not want to know details. But if you need help or someone to talk to she is willing to listen." He looked at each of his charges in the eye. "We know she is a trained agent with the skill to take out The Joker. She has freely admitted she is licensed and has killed in the line of duty. If things go south she could be a valuable front-lines fighter. You may want to try and get used to working with her. She is only going to be here for a year but all of us know anything can happen next week in Gotham."

Dick and Tim nodded soberly.

Then Bruce smiled a tired but purely amused expression. "One more thing. I expect both of you to treat her respectfully, no lewd insinuations or veiled comments in public. We have discussed the matter and both of us agree a public relationship is not workable for either of us. As far as anyone will know she is an amateur historian investigating the historical relationship between her family and mine. Hermione made it very clear she will make your civilian lives very humiliating when she is not transfiguring you into various animals if either of you implies otherwise. To anyone. Including Barbara for now."

Both teen and youth shivered in unison.

"You wouldn't let her do that to us! Would you Bruce?" It was clear Tim wasn't quite so certain.

Bruce smirked. "Even if she does I'm certain she'll change you back for patrols."

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

TBC…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If anyone is wondering why Hermione jumped into bed since she isn't the sort… she didn't. Jump into a sexual relationship on impulse. She's gotten to know Bruce Wayne over the months she researched his family and the weeks in the Manor spent looking for Wemyss Pact Seal. So when she finds out he has a very legitimate need to move freely, it isn't a huge personal sacrifice. She knows she likes and trusts him. A friends-with-benefits relationship.


	6. A Shared Adversary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now they go hunting the Demon Head. This draws an old friend from Britain.

Hermione tapped the keys, pulling up and correlating information swiftly and efficiently. It was a simple matter to trawl old files and cross reference for the relevant data. She smirked hitting the final key sending the information to the portable field units.

"Done. You should be receiving the information any second now; a list of addresses that have reported some kind of intruders in the last eight weeks. They might be using all of them on a rotating basis so be careful."

Robins voice came clear over the earpiece.

"Thanks Azure. This will definitely save us some time. We'll split the list and go hunting."

The curly-haired brunette chuckled warmly. "I thought so. The addresses are arranged by geographic zone. I've included a labelled map as well. It should take forty-fifty minutes if you split it four ways."

"Two ways." Batmans gravely voice corrected. "Batgirl and Nightwing will check the addresses. Robin and myself will complete the usual patrol circuits."

"Hmmm. All right then, stay safe. There is a tray of brownies in the base kitchenette with a jug of milk." Then in a more maternal tone. "Robin, I finished editing your essays on Macbeth and gene-therapy. The character analysis is fine but you are using un-citable sources for the gene-therapy paper; you got some of the facts from Batman's private case files containing classified data. If you want to use them they have to be presented as hypothetical scenarios. I've marked the relevant sections but I'm afraid you're going to have to do some major rewriting."

Robin groaned. "Oh man! I thought I was done with it."

"I'm afraid not sweetie. You may want to work on it during lunch break. Nightwing, a couple of classmates called about some group project for Theatrical Arts. Batgirl, in case your father asks, you spent the evening going through an at-home spa session with me. Azure out." She tugged the earpiece and mic off and dropped them beside the keyboard.

Alfred Pennyworth studied the young British witch and silently marvelled at how well she had adjusted and fit into the household, in the Cave and the Manor. It had been a bit awkward at first, especially when she and Master Bruce made it very clear it was only going to be a temporary relationship, to fulfill some of the terms for the hand fasting, to have more freedom, to Seal and eventually Break the Pact.

She had not tried to push herself forward nor tried very hard to fit but somehow she had grown out of her box and into other spaces. Master Tim had been drawn to ask questions about her restoration and cataloguing work, to talk to Miss Hermione and the portrait Mistress Leda about history and literature and math. From conversations it turned to debates that drew in the whole household with her acting as moderator. With her around Master Bruce and Master Richard had civilized discussions that did not end in shouting matches. And there was the time she spent helping Master Tim with his homework and balancing his school, social and crime-fighting lives.

"Miss Hermione?"

"Yes Alfred?"

"You mentioned you were a trained agent. One who tracked and apprehended criminals. Is there a reason why you are choosing not to go out with the Masters?"

She smiled. "A very big one Alfred. A lot of my techniques and training rely on me using magic. If I'm in a fight my first instinct is to use magic to take out my opponent. I can try to be discreet and Obliviate any witnesses but sooner or later I'll miss one who'll spread the word: There is some lady helping Batman, she uses a stick and does magic. According to the Aurors, there are squib middle-men working for the mob; if they hear the rumours they'll know a wand-witch is helping Batman. It would not be too difficult for them to track down all the wand-witches in the Gotham-Bludhaven region; including myself. If they do a decent enough job, they'll know I'm one of the few witches with the training and experience in tracking and catching dangerous criminals."

"And since you are living in Wayne Manor it would create a dangerous link to Batman." Alfred concluded.

"Correct. I don't mind doing the data mining and analysis work though. Even when I was in Team Seven I would primarily work from base doing support services: research, communication, planning, logistics." She ran slender fingers through her messy curls. "In fact it would help if there was someone to do that on a permanent basis for Batman. I know you do a lot of it but you are stretched thin with other responsibilities."

Alfred frowned slightly. "A lot of the equipment is assembled in the Cave. Some of the repairs and maintenance are very sophisticated and time consuming."

"It is a thought. If you are concerned about loyalties you may consider binding a House Elf to the family. It is not something I would normally suggest but in this situation security and confidentiality are of utmost importance. And Bruce can definitely afford the cost."

Alfred opened and shut his mouth. The house elves had been a big shock to the butler but he had very quickly adjusted to their presence and eagerness to help and make life easier for 'Missy Hermy and the Masters'. Alfred could clearly see how easy it was to abuse the trust and devotion house elves had for their human families. It had been most abhorrent, the enslavement of sentient beings, until Winky pointed out he was as devoted to the Masters as the house elves were to their own human families. After that it was easy to see past the surface impressions of slavery, to see bonding with humans provided house elves with a vitality and focus that they needed to be happy. In fact Alfred had gotten rather spoiled; he wasn't quite sure how he would go back to his old routine once Miss Hermione left.

"I will mention it to Master Bruce."

Hermione smiled. "Good. I'm going to retire now. It has been a long day."

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

In a mountain stronghold somewhere in Asia Minor a dark-haired sloe-eyed beauty was having a very lively discussion with a much older dark-haired man with white streaks and a trim goatee.

Talia al'Ghul slammed the rolled up magazine on the table in front of her father. The magazine unrolled to reveal a picture of a tall broad shouldered man with slightly-wavy, dark hair dressed in a tailored suit standing on the steps of Gotham City Hall with a shorter woman with a massy of tawny streaked brown curls wearing a hunter-green, wrap-around dress with a cream shawl draped over her shoulders.

"He's sleeping with her!"

Ra's al'Ghul studied the picture with mild eyes. "He is intimate with the Thief and other women. Why are you so concerned Daughter?"

Talia made a hissing sound; like an irate cat. "Hermione McInnes is living with him Father! That's why!"

Ra's stiffened. "McInnes?"

Talia stared. It wasn't like her father to be easily alarmed. "What is it? Is she dangerous? A threat?"

Ra's flipped the pages to scan the article. "Not a threat as yet, but someone to be concerned about. She is a wand-user."

Talia blinked and focused on her father more intently. "Do you think she bespelled my Beloved? She is too plain to have attracted one such as him!"

Ra's frowned. "I do not believe so. My contacts in Gotham indicate she is very much of a law-abiding witch. Aurors have interacted with her but there is nothing to be concerned about, just the lunatic clown on his rampages."

"But why are you worried Father? She is just a witch. Take away her wand and she will be helpless! Prey!"

Ra's shook his head. "Those are foolish thoughts Daughter. She was born Hermione Granger, well-known to many in the magical enclaves as the Golden Lioness. She spent six years as an Unspeakable, four as a Hit Witch, code name Azure, and third-in-command of Team Seven. She may be retired now but we must be careful about making waves in Gotham. If she suspects anything she will send for her friend and ally the Dark Lord Slayer. Hit Wizard Harrison Potter, code name Seeker, leader of Team Seven."

Talia went very still. "Do you think my Beloved knows of wand-magic?"

Ra's sighed. "I am uncertain. The Detective is truly skilled in observation and deduction but magic is something he is not very familiar with. And a witch like the Golden Lioness would not be so easily outed. He may or may not know but I strongly doubt she would have bespelled him. It doesn't fit what I know of her."

Talia sniffed. "I care not for any silly witch. He is mine! I'm certain she will see the errors of her ways easily."

Ra's did not bother arguing. When his daughter decided on a course of action it was nearly impossible to move her. She would learn otherwise. The hard way.

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

Bruce smiled as he studied the small curvy female form clad in a peacock blue silk gown with a heavily embellished bodice, narrow spaghetti straps and a low-V waist in the mirror before him. She wore a single slender platinum chain with a large blue topaz teardrop pendant and matching drop earrings displayed by the elegant up-do secured by diamante combs. He watched her walk up behind him and caught his eyes in the mirror.

"Need any help?"

Then she was in front of him taking the bow tie he was trying to knot around his throat and deftly doing it herself. He could have knotted it himself but he preferred fumbling until she took over the task. He suspected she knew he was faking it but she never called him out on it. She liked fussing over others.

They were friends and lovers. Bound but not committed. She knew of the darkness in Gotham and his Quest and did not make a fuss but instead quietly helped in first subtle then more obvious ways, like Alfred. Was it an English thing? To step up without being asked? No, it was something that was characteristic to Hermione and Alfred and Bruce hated to admit it but he liked it. It had been four months since they had been forcefully hand fasted, ten weeks since they first slept with each other, and Bruce found he was counting the days. She would be gone in eight months and deep inside he knew he would miss her when she left. Her warm presence and steady support… Her intellectual far-reaching curiosity, understanding compassion, willingness to listen… Her relentless drive, iron-will, calculating mind, ruthless pragmatism.

He wasn't certain how she did it. Separate the fighter and killer from the softness in her. Bruce knew he was good at compartmentalizing but Hermione was on a whole other level. She could shift from the supportive elder sister giving advice on teen angst to the critiquing a plan to track down escaped convicts then back again without missing a beat. She'd cajole them into taking breaks and eating, teasing them out of gloomy moods, challenge them to consider and see more than the box.

He sighed as she took his hands and secured the jade and silver cuffs, adjusting the jewellery against the dense cashmere material of the jacket.

"Why are we attending this gala again?" Bruce asked idly. "I thought I'd written a cheque for the new paediatric Cancer Care Unit at Gotham General."

"I thought you might be interested in a guest who RSVPed."

"Who?"

"Talia Head."

Bruce stiffened. "What?" He growled. "None of my contacts indicated anything."

"But mine have. I believe they used magical means of travelling. Ra's is in Gotham as well but we don't have a location, just several possibilities."

Understanding dawned. "So this dinner-dance…"

"Is to provoke a confrontation. From what Dick and Tim have mentioned she is very possessive of you and she will not resist an opportunity to demonstrate her connection and damaging any emotional attachment you might have towards another woman. It will give me the chance to tag her."

"Tag her?"

"Magical tracer. My own spell and undetectable unless you know exactly what you are looking for. In case they have any mages working for them."

Bruce smiled. "And what are you planning on doing once you have a location? Ra's might be up to something but we don't have any information on his latest scheme."

Hermione chuckled and touched his cheek. "I'm not interested in thwarting Ra's al Ghul's latest scheme. Just punishing him."

The amusement faded. He grabbed the hand on his face around the wrist. "What do you mean?" His voice was soft and dangerous.

She was not afraid. "Don't worry, he will not die. But he might wish it once I'm done with him." She broke his grip with a deft twist and began moving away. The gown practically had no back all the way to the small of her waist clearly revealing she was not wearing a bra. "Alfred has already moved my suit and equipment to the penthouse. If you wish you can join me tonight." She stopped in the entryway to look at him over her shoulder with a challenging look. "If you can keep up with me."

Suddenly Bruce felt a lot better and a lot more intrigued by the situation. Just how would Hermione McInnes handle the Demon Head, Ra's al Ghul? Given how she took down The Joker it had the potential to be explosive, or entertaining, or both.

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

Nightwing resisted the urge to smirk as he watched Batman watch Azure use the grappling gun to cross the roof tops. Azure had insisted on travelling on foot or lines, to avoid detection by any means. They would be following the tracking beacon Azure had planted on Talia at which point one of three pre-determined plans would be executed. Personally Nightwing hoped it would be Plan C where Azure would take out Ra's herself leaving Batman and himself to secure the perimeter and look after any minions.

~o~

Batman moved swiftly and silently, his cape almost soundless. He was impressed with Azure's calm. He had tested her physical skills and seen her fight The Joker but this was something different, a planned operation. Just the latest one of many she had planned and participated in. Her broken-in outfit indicated that.

Tight pants, boots, and vest made from blue-black scaly reptile worn over a black knitted silk top that she had demonstrated as nearly indestructible. Ukranian Ironbelly dragon hide and Acromantula silk. Leather sleeves from wrist to bicep covered her arms and steel reinforced bracers protected her forearms. Her gloves were thin and knitted from black Acromantula silk and provided better protection than Batman's own.

Over the vest and pants she wore a harness about her waist that included straps and loops around her lower back, hips and both thighs securing a variety of pockets and weapons within easy access. The oddly feminine notes were the methods she used to disguise herself; a black lace snood restraining her hair and a steel headdress that resembled a tiara that covered her forehead, temple and cheeks. The tiara generated a dark blue energy screen that completely masked her face; a very futuristic looking face visor. All of her equipment screamed lethal, expensive, and well-used.

"We're practically on top of the signal." Her voice was distorted by the visor.

"Count down?"

Batman did not like deferring to others in the field but she had made it very clear this was her game.

"Give me one minute before moving in. Try to get a handle on the patrollers and the exit points within five hundred feet of X."

And then to the two costumed vigilantes shock she vanished.

"Where is she?" Nightwing looked around hesitantly.

"Doing her part. Let's go."

~o~

Azure smirked softly as she quickly factored in her observations and planning data. The set up was perfect in her favour. All she had to do was cut her target out by isolating the room he was using.

She tapped her comm. and spoke softly. "Plan C. Will be isolating target in Grid E5, level two. Spiral from the outside in. I will be at X in ten. If you want a front seat you better be quick." She chuckled softly tapping out.

Her eyes gleamed gold behind the navy blue one-way visor. Her blood was pounding, heart racing, senses singing, muscles flexing. Deftly she fell over the rooftop edge in a controlled fall, air rushing past her.

~o~

"Where were you Daughter?"

Talia al Ghul quailed. She was a grown woman but at times her father made her feel like a little girl.

"At a charity event Father. I wished to see my Beloved."

Ra's frowned slightly. "A foolish course of action Daughter. You have tipped your hand too quickly. The Detective now knows you are in Gotham. What have you gained from this course of action?"

Talia frowned. "I saw my rival. The witch. She is pretty but nothing truly exceptional to catch a powerful mans eye."

"And how did she react to your presence?"

Now Talia revealed her confusion. "She was calm. Too calm. And amused. I wanted to fight her father. Hit her. To make her stop."

Ra's shook his head. "You already lost the first round. She has made you loose control." Dark eyes were intent. "Did the Detective display any signs of knowing her true skills and abilities? What did you glean about their relationship?"

Talia tried to arrange her impressions into a coherent report. "They are allies. He is most courteous but he does not control who she interacts with. She always returns to him; he is an important priority." And then she began to go into more detail.

Ra's considered the information. Something didn't quite make sense. It was a splinter just under his skin. That warning sense escalated into a shrill scream.

He rose from his chair and looked around. His daughter did not sense it.

And then it happened.

Several red stunners from the shadows, from various impossible angles. Some he managed to avoid, more than a few found targets in his bodyguards and daughter. Then the spells became more dangerous, designed to take out opponents hard. He was good but not against a disillusioned witch using perfect apparition to move around the field.

He hit the wall hard and went through it. She followed him through it a wand in each hand casting spells to immobilize and bind.

While he lay petrified and helpless she vanished back through the hole, only to return a few minutes later levitating the similarly immobilized and bound form of his daughter and followed by the Detective himself.

~o~

"You've done this before." Batman was impressed despite himself.

He had seen her practice, sparred with her himself, but seeing her take out his old mentor and teacher with brutal efficient tactics was something else.

She chuckled softly and spoke. Her voice was throaty and distorted by the visor.

"You haven't seen anything extraordinary Batman. If there were anti-apparition wards it would have been more of a challenge."

She transfigured the broken wood and stone into a chair and levitated Ra's al Ghul to sit on it before casting more spells to bind him to the chair. Then he moved his head slightly in contrast to the rigidity of his body. She must have selectively paralysed him.

"Congratulations Detective though I am not certain how you managed it… Locating and forming an alliance with one of the most capable Battle Mages of this century; Hit Witch Azure, the Golden Lioness. Very unusual given the laws wand-users have about interacting with those without magic."

Batman stared at his old mentor and smirked. He had the upper hand. Ra's didn't have a clue about how drastically things had changed in Gotham and the magical enclaves.

"It is a fairly recent thing." He turned to his companion. "What do you want to do?"

The bound mans eyes widened in shock. It was something he had not expected.

"What are you doing Detective?"

Batman turned back to his one-time mentor and responded. "It was quite a pleasant shock to find out other agencies were tracking you down. Since you've always operated in a quasi-legal manner it makes it impossible to prosecute you using American law. But Azure informs me magical law is an entirely different matter."

The curvy shorter form clad in blue-black leathers stepped closer to the chair. She slipped one wand into a forearm holster hidden in the bracers and then reached into one of the pouches on her hip and removed a scroll sealed with gold-impregnated purple wax. She touched the tip of her other wand to the seal. It melted under a gold flame. Once the seal broke the scroll magically unrolled itself, hovering at eyelevel before Azure. A faint blue shimmer of dust floated from the opened scroll and coated Ra's al Ghul. He opened his mouth and tried to yell but failed to make a sound.

"Usual ICW blurb, blah blah blah. Ah! In regards to the trial held in absentia of Ra's al Ghul also known as Henri Ducard, also known as Tariq al Karim, also known as…" She recited a long list of names. Some known to Batman but most not. And given how Ra's paled quite significant identities. Batman made a mental note to investigate those names using his new magical and usual mundane resources. "Throughout this document he shall be referred to as Ra's al Ghul.

"The ICW has found Ra's al Ghul guilty of violating the Statute of Secrecy Section 3, Subsection G, Article 15. Subsection G lists various magical sites that are either unique or dangerous, including particular phenomena titled the Lazarus Pits. He has created a cult of Muggles and squibs assassins and anarchists and revealed the existence of the Lazarus Pits to them. Al Ghul has deliberately contravened ICW decrees by actually using them despite the horrific psychosis the Lazarus Pits induce and the resulting magical backlash using the Pits causes in the planetary leylines.

"Until now Al Ghul has escaped judgment by either bribing or threatening the agents sent after him or bribing ICW officials to look the other way. Those officials are currently serving time in Azkaban, Nuremberg and Levenworth. The ICW has reviewed this case and decided some of the more serious crimes have exceeded the usual Statute of Limitations five decades mark and Al Ghul's more recent endeavours have been focused against the Muggle world using non-magical methods." Ra's smirk was pleased. Batman's eyes narrowed. Azure continued blandly. "Since Al Ghul is a difficult squib to apprehend and detain the ICW grants all active Battle Mages with the ranking Hit Witch or Hit Wizard the authority to pass Judgment. Team Seven led by Hit Wizard Seeker is assigned primary responsibility for tracking down Al Ghul and his associated allies and either passing them to the relevant Muggle authorities or detaining them if they are from magical backgrounds. We are recalling inactive Hit Witch Azure to active status in the event she has the opportunity to track and detain Al Ghul for Judgment in Gotham City, New Jersey, United States of America." She tapped the side of her steel tiara causing the blue visor to vanish to reveal a cool composed face, calculating gold eyes set under slanting dark brows, a straight tip-tilted nose and full pink lips. She raised her wand hand, a faint golden glow emitting from the tip. "Listen and witness my Judgment Ra's al Ghul!

"What was stolen shall be taken away! Years and Youth are no longer yours to steal and spend! Even as we speak, Unspeakables and ICW agents have been Unplottable and the information will be stored in the Unspeakables Vaults." And then she continued to list GPS coordinates and countries all over the planet. Afghanistan. India. Chile. Namibia. China. Germany. Norway. Indonesia. Thailand. New Zealand. Some locations were known to Batman but the others were a complete shock. Ra's recognized a few but some he did not. "If any other Lazarus Pits are discovered they too will be collapsed and warded to prevent others from upsetting the balance." Her voice was cold and relentless. "You have lived too long and you have done nothing to Give or Create. All you've done is Take and Destroy. All in the name of the Greater Good.

"There is no such thing Ra's al Ghul and you have no right to demand sacrifices from others, sacrifices you are unwilling to make yourself. You treat the world as a plaything, something that is yours to shape and change by destroying Life. If you wish to kill, do it up close and personal and use a gun or a blade. But remember all those who take lives live in fear that their own will be taken from them. You've taken without care or concern for centuries. Now I shall take from you."

"Azure…" Batman growled in a low dangerous tone. But she simply ignored him.

"I shall not take your life Ra's al Ghul but I shall take all that you cherish so dear."

And then she cast her spell. A teal blue-green light enveloped the eco-terrorist. At this point he screamed and was heard. His body twisted within the bindings holding him in his seat, in agony as his skin began shrivelling and sagging, muscles atrophying and flesh melting away. White streaks thickened and new streaks sprouted in black hair and grew fell out until merest wisps of white hair covered the bony liver spotted skull.

She cast a counter spell ending the binding.

The newly aged Ra's al Ghul fell off the chair and to the floor coughing harshly. His chest heaved spasmodically, as he struggled to breath, to regain control of his limbs. He hissed softly as every slight motion sent jolts of agony through his body.

Batman stared horrified at the sight. "What did you do to him?"

"Haven't you wondered why wand-users never use the Lazarus Pits Batman? There are several potions that use the chemicals as ingredients in anti-aging potions without the psychotic side-effects. However there is a certain spell that reverses most of the beneficial effects. Once that charm is cast it induces a permanent allergy after burning the Pit chemicals out of the body and reverting body cells to a truer age." Her voice was grim and satisfied. "He won't die but he is now subject to every age related condition that he had avoided for centuries. Muscular atrophy, osteoporosis, arthritis, weakened immune systems, senility, et cetera."

She cast the spell a second time; this time on Talia. The effects were visible but less painful in her case.

Faint wrinkles formed on her face, mainly crows-feet at the corners of her eyes and lines around her mouth. Several narrow white streaks appeared in thick black hair.

Batman goggled.

Azure smirked. "I guess Talia is much older than what she claimed to be." Then her expression hardened. "I have no reason to lie, dare to use the Lazarus Pits again and you will die. Listen, to my Judgment upon you Talia al Ghul. You will leave Gotham City and never return. If you cross paths with me I will detain you and turn you over to whichever authority can build a successful case against you. But before you spew your venom at me think! Your father is in his second childhood and given his utter disregard for human life there will be many who wish to kill him. If you truly love him take the chance I offer and leave! Start a new life far away and do not cross the law; if you are arrested there will be no one to protect him." Talia's eyes widened in sudden comprehension. "You have one hour to get out of Gotham. After that I will be contacting Seeker and informing him of your presence in the city. Seeker will track you and your father down. I will not have to do anything else. Retaliate and I will respond in kind with near lethal force." She eyed the older woman critically. "The binding spells will break five minutes after we leave." She turned to Batman and tapped her tiara, activating the visor. "We are done here."

He followed her out of the damaged room and out of the warehouse. They did not speak until they were a safe distance away.

"Thank you. For not killing him."

Azure chuckled. "It would be like shooting fish in a barrel. Distasteful and cheating. I only use lethal force and kill when duelling wand-users. One who has a better than even chance of killing me."

He nodded. "Why did you let them go?"

Azure swung on her line and gracefully rebounded off a building wall to bounce onto another rooftop. As she retracted the line of her borrowed grappling gun she was quiet.

"Talia deserves a second chance. She spent too many years being subsumed by her father's personality. And everything indicates she is not as obsessed as her father. If she has someone depending on her she will be cautious and think twice about getting sucked back into the snake pit."

Batman absorbed the information. "Are you still going to contact your friend? Seeker?" He asked casually.

She snorted softly. "Of course! If I don't he will be very mad when he finds out."

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

Harry Potter sighed as he stood on the front step of Wayne Manor under the twilight sky. The taxi that had dropped him off was rushing back to Gotham and paying customers. Carefully he slung his single leather duffel bag across his back and strode up the path to the main gates to press the buzzer. According to Hermione's letters someone should be home. If not, he could just Apparate to Knightsburg, one of the outlying suburbs on the mainland where the local Aurors had a base. He sincerely hoped Hermione was available. He had spent hours tracking down rumours and tips, collating the facts and a timeline on the Ducard and his daughter to no avail. Hermione was always much better at puzzles.

"Yes?" A man with a polished English accent spoke over the two-way comm.

"My name is Harry Potter. I'm here to see a friend of mine, Hermione McInnes. From what I understand she is staying here as a guest."

There was a brief pause before the English man responded.

"Please come in. I will be waiting at the front door for you."

Then the adjoining smaller gate clicked and swung open. Harry stepped through smartly and before he could close the gate behind him it swung shut and locked automatically.

Harry shrugged and made his way up the cobbled drive-way. He took the steps in long easy strides. By now, he could see a butler clad in a formal black suit waiting just inside the open main door. He was much older with saggy skin, deeply set eyes. His neat, small moustache was a contrast to his thinning white hair and bald spot.

"Mister Potter?" He was definitely the same guy who answered the buzzer. "My name is Alfred Pennyworth, Mister Wayne's butler. Miss McInnes is busy at the moment but she should be available in thirty to forty minutes. She instructed me to offer you a room for the rest of your stay in Gotham, if you do not have other plans."

Harry blinked, taken aback by the outpouring of information and instructions. Slowly he stepped through the doorway and watched the older man close the door before leading him across the tiled foyer into the living areas.

"Are you sure Mister Pennyworth?"

"Absolutely Mister Potter. I am quite certain you and Miss McInnes have a lot to talk about. Master Bruce made it quite clear you are a more than welcome guest. And Mister Potter, please call me Alfred."

Harry nodded hesitantly. "All right. Alfred."

"Is there anything you wish to do first Mister Potter? Freshen up? Tea?"

Harry thought for a bit and made up his mind. "I'd like to freshen up and change. I've been in the same clothes for nearly twenty hours travelling and then in meetings." He admitted. "And tea sounds wonderful."

Alfred nodded briskly. "If you will, please follow me."

~o~

"Alfred, who is the man in the Minor Portrait Gallery?"

The butler looked up from the trolley he was loading with a tea tray and platters of treats. If Master Timothy was here the rest would show up any minute now.

"The gentleman is Mister Harry Potter, the friend Miss Hermione was expecting. Please be circumspect around him. He is unaware of our hobbies."

Tim smirked. "Got it Alfred."

"And if I may inquire, where is Miss Hermione?"

"She is rewrapping the wounds Bruce got last night. Dick has other plans with Barbara. Something about an art show."

"Hmmm. Why don't you keep Mister Potter entertained for a bit with a quick tour? Then take him to the Sage Sitting Room. I should be done with these sandwiches in five minutes and Master Bruce and Miss Hermione should be upstairs as well."

~o~

Hermione hurried down the steps to the main floor. Harry was here! Small feet shod in black ballet flats would have skidded on the tiles and parquet if it wasn't for her quick reflexes and the anti-skid charms applied on the leather soles.

She could hear Tim's voice warbling between maturity and childishness. It was cracking and it made patrolling difficult since snappy verbal repartee was part of his Robin persona. It was hard when his voice fluctuated between high and low ranges randomly. Perhaps a voice masking runic charm without any extra modifications; Batman was known to associate with the JLA magic users.

While her mind worked her hands absently shook out the thin wool of the slim mid-calf heather tweed skirt and straightened the scoop-neck dove grey cashmere sweater she wore with it. Her hair was a damp mass of curls restrained by a clip above each ear.

As she stepped into the room one of her oldest and dearest friends quickly finished off his cucumber sandwich and stood up to walk over. He looked good; a bit tired but not drained to his limits. There were faint silver threads in his messy black hair. A few months after the Last Battle he had gone to a Healer and had his vision fixed permanently but continued to wear glasses enchanted with a varied assortment of detection charms. The ones he tended to favour were narrow rimless ones with rectangular lenses and black frames. He had to be travelling out of the duffel bag given his casual outfit of charcoal cords and a slate blue pullover trimmed in cream and black. He moved quietly making almost no noise on feet shoed in black, slightly-scruffy combat boots.

Seeing him walk towards her made her tear up and relax all the same. He was the ultimate big brother and bodyguard, ready to fight anyone who made her cry. She did not have to think about stepping into his wide open arms to hug him tight. He returned her embrace just as fiercely. He had definitely come a long way from the abused emotionally starved teenager of Hogwarts. She couldn't stop the long restrained tears from soaking his pullover. His murmurs were indistinct but comforting as he lowered his arms and stepped back a bit. Then he cupped her cheeks and stared into her eyes. Harry was not a good enough Legimens but he knew her well enough to read her. After fifteen seconds he nodded and spoke in a louder voice.

"I won't ask because I can see it for myself. Physically you are in wonderful shape. But emotionally you are not at your best. Now I definitely wish I made time to visit for your birthday instead of just sending your gift. What happened, Hermione?"

She bit her lower lip. "Harry, I want you to promise me you won't go half-cocked until I completely finish my story."

Now he definitely looked wary. "Hermione…"

"Just promise!" She insisted.

Harry looked as though he was about to protest but then he changed his mind.

"All right. I'll wait until you finish before going half-cocked and beating up the people responsible for this mess."

"Harry!" Hermione was affronted and relieved by the familiar response.

He waved his hand impatiently and sat down with ungraceful swiftness.

"I need something alcoholic if your story is as complicated as I sense it is."

"You are absolutely right Mister Potter." Alfred interjected smoothly. He walked over and set a tray holding two decanters of amber and gold liquid along with a bottle of coke and soda water and a fresh pot of tea. "Whiskey and soda water or tea?"

Harry sighed. "Whiskey and tea please."

Hermione sighed. "Just tea for me Alfred. Tim?"

"Coke would be great Alfred."

Hermione nodded. "And a tea for Bruce. He should be here any minute now."

"I am." A smooth rich baritone interjected.

Hermione smiled and turned to fourth male walking in. A tall broad shouldered man dressed in moccasins, indigo jeans and a cream-navy blue cable knit sweater. She had told herself not to get attached to him; it was only a temporary relationship, she would be leaving Gotham, but somehow despite all her efforts she had become attached.

Despite his artificial public image, his grim Batman persona, abrasive personality, the conflict and danger, being around him felt right. It was like she had finally encountered an asteroid with perfect mass and density that pulled her into a perfect orbit. With him she would not drift away and she was too strong to be dragged too deep and crash. In fact she was providing a strong enough counter weight to stabilize his orbit, to keep him from going off course and crashing.

~o~

Harry Potter watched with wary eyes as the woman he considered a sister held out a hand to the playboy billionaire and smile with undeniable warmth. He listened to the introductions she made and responded at the appropriate points. He watched as she drew Bruce Wayne towards her, selecting a loveseat for the both of them. Big brother instincts screamed a warning as his observations began painting a picture he had never expected. Firmly he tamped down on those feelings and told himself sternly to wait and listen. He hoped but knew from long experience to never expect the best.

So he sat and sipped his whiskey-laced tea and listened to Hermione tell her tale. Halfway through, Harry refilled his cup with black tea heavily-laced with whiskey. Green eyes were very bright and hard. Then he abandoned the tea cup for a crystal tumbler filled with whiskey and soda water, heavy on the alcohol.

He set the glass down on the marble topped table with a soft clink before speaking. His voice was clear and distinct. Muggle whiskey had nothing on Ogden's Silver Edition Firewhiskey brews.

"So you are hand fasted thanks to a meddlesome bastard who had the audacity to die a few centuries ago." His tone was light and humorous but his expression anything but. "Where is that portrait again? I'm going to destroy it. Rip it to shreds. Set it on fire and toast marshmallows."

Hermione sighed. "Harry, if anyone is going to destroy the portrait I am. But to be honest things have sort of worked out for the best. Yes, I can't leave Gotham but it's only for one year. Bruce and I have talked it over and we've decided to co-operate. Once the year is up we are done. Since Bruce has a business to run in Gotham it makes more sense for me to stay here. Most of my work is correspondence and research and if I need to travel, it is much quicker using magic."

Harry sighed. "All right. No destroying the interfering ancestral portrait. And given what I know about hand fasting rituals I really don't want to know the terms or if it's been sealed." He shuddered slightly. "I love you like a sister Mione but there are some things I Do Not Need To Know." Then his expression turned lighter. "I got your message about Ducard. Why in Merlin's name did you let the bastard go?"

She just smirked. "I didn't let him go without Judgment Harry. I used the Purifying charm designed to neutralize toxins from the Lazarus Pits. He is a fragile old man now. His daughter will spend more time hiding and looking after him than causing trouble."

Harry sighed. "We've already secured a large chunk of his magical holdings in Europe, Asia and Africa. I guess we can hunt down the rest of his assets and associates in the Americas while waiting for anything to turn up."

At that moment the conversation was interrupted by Alfred.

"If I may intervene at this point… Dinner is served. Any discussion can be put on hold until after dessert and coffee." Alfred pointed out mildly.

"Alfred is right. We can continue this later." Bruce murmured.

~o~

Harry ended up staying in Wayne Manor for three days before leaving.

"I need to catch up on what the rest of the guys have found on Demons Head and the League of Shadows. They are in San Francisco waiting for me."

Hermione hugged him tight, reluctant to let go. She was used to dropping in on him for a hug or dinner whenever she felt like it. It was odd being separated from him by a continent or an ocean.

"Do stop and visit. I'm definitely going to have some sort of plan for Christmas so please try not to make any commitments."

Harry chuckled. "I won't. Keep your mirror and cell with you. I will stay in touch. I know that Kingsley is interested in your latest Project. It could be a better security system alternative for the high risk sections of Azkaban."

Hermione sighed. "I'm still refining the ward design equations."

He brushed a kiss against her forehead. "And all of us know you always come up with a solution to your problem. It may not be efficient, elegant, or exact but it will get the job done. Don't burn yourself out Mione."

"I won't." She promised tearily.

Then Harry looked around hesitantly. The male members of the Wayne household were just out of eavesdropping distance.

"Mione, do you know? About Bruce Wayne?"

She blinked confused. "Know what?"

"His hobbies? In particular his night time activities?"

Her eyes widened. "You know?"

"Well yes." Harry confessed. "As soon as I heard you were travelling to Gotham, then staying with the Wayne's, I started digging. When I put the different reports together it became oddly clear. I don't think anyone else would have noticed. Most wizards, even ICW Hit Wizards do not pay full attention to the Muggle world; especially gossip about Muggle businessmen and their dangerous athletic hobbies."

Hermione smiled gently. "I know about the suit Harry. And I'm okay with it. It is not too different from what I used to do, what you still do."

Harry blinked and then nodded. "Okay. As long as you know."

The witch snorted softly. "Harry, I took The Joker out before I even knew about Bruce. If I get into trouble it won't be his fault."

"Okay. Just be careful." He hugged her one last time. "Now before I leave I'd like to talk to your not-real fiancé-husband. Could you just send him over here for a few minutes? I promise I won't hurt him."

"Harry!"

"Not permanently anyways." He added in a hurry.

The witch merely huffed and flounced away towards the men waiting at the top of the steps. She stood on tiptoe to whisper something to Bruce who nodded and came down the steps and walked towards Harry.

"You asked to speak to me Potter?"

Harry stared at the older, taller, broader male and tamped down on the urge to hurt him. Yes he was regularly in the society papers for his outrageous behaviour and romantic life but Harry knew better than most that images and public reputation could be very misleading. Hermione saw something in him and she trusted him. But Harry had heard enough about Gotham's vigilante, the Batman, to be concerned. Bruce Wayne would not intend to hurt her but it was almost inevitable. But in the end it was Hermione's choice.

"Please, walk with me Wayne." Harry picked up the duffel bag at his feet and slung it across his back. He began walking down the cobbled path without waiting to see if the American would follow. "We haven't had the chance to talk privately and to be honest I don't see the point in having a long conversation with you. Hermione is very dear to me and frankly I only see a painful ending to this situation. She may not mean it but she will become attached, it is inevitable for one like her who cares more for those around her than herself." Harry stopped and turned back to see the kind of response his words had generated.

The older man stiffened slightly. "I am not certain of what you want me to do. Are you warning me off?"

Harry winced. "Hermione's bending for you Wayne; to accommodate for this situation. She's enjoying herself but at the same time she's emotionally stressed. But she is genuinely fond of you and for Hermione it is just a few steps away from a committed relationship. Frankly, I would have preferred it if your relationship remained platonic but I suppose with your activities it would be most impractical to have limited leeway." Harry smirked as the older man stiffened. "Yes Wayne, I know. And no, Hermione did not tell me anything. I have access to a great deal of resources and when I heard about Hermione moving in with a Muggle playboy I felt a little background check was in order. I am not interested in what you do at night, or your preference for dark colours, armoured suits and capes, drama and theatrics; but if Hermione is hurt due to your activities I will not be pleased." The British wizard's voice was in sub-Arctic ranges.

Bruce Wayne was quiet before he spoke in lower harsher tones. "I can't guarantee anything. In Gotham events have a tendency to slip out of control."

"Oh I know that; and Hermione is a trouble magnet very much like me. Once she decides on a course of action it is nearly impossible to stop her. The only thing you can do is shift her focuses fractionally, bring her attention around and ground her. I expect you to do that and to keep her busy Wayne. When she has time her mind wanders in dangerous directions. Usually she has a staff and assistants to keep her on track."

The billionaire smiled slightly. "Alfred has taken on that role. So has Tim. They don't let her get so caught up in a project she doesn't eat."

Harry nodded and smiled as well. "So I understand." Then the smile faded. "Wayne, I have only one piece of advice for you." Dark eyes narrowed faintly but Harry did not allow the other man to affect him. "Choose for yourself. Choose what your heart desires, not what you feel you must do for others."

Harry watched as Bruce Wayne blinked taken aback by his words. "Excuse me?"

The wizard looked away into the distance as old memories of dead friends came alive. He mourned them and once upon a time he had allowed the memories and guilt to rip him to shreds. That ended when he died a second time and came back to finally defeat Riddle.

"Hermione is one of the most loyal and trustworthy people I know. She would do anything for her loved ones; she sent away her own parents to protect them and stayed behind to help me prepare for a war. And when the war was done she stayed and continued to fight the prejudices and laws that created that war. I've never met another as strong and capable and willing to draw the line and stand her ground." Green eyes were bright as they met dark ones. "If I didn't consider her a sister I would have married her a long time ago.

"Even though we are only friends I hold onto what I share with her because I know she is one of the few souls who See me for myself, a human being trying to do the best I can. And I love her for that. I know she will never let go and watch me fall." He tilted his head to one side. "If you trust her with yourself you will never be betrayed, you will always be in safe hands. She does not know how to give up." He stared the older man in the eye. "Just think about what I've just said Wayne. If you wish to speak to me Hermione has my contact information. Until next time, stay safe."

And with that Harry Potter vanished with a faint swirl of air dissipating where he had once stood; on the cobble stoned driveway leading to Wayne Manor.

~o~

Bruce Wayne stood on the cobbled driveway for a long while. The sun touched the tops of the decades old trees when Hermione joined him.

"What did Harry say to you?" she wanted to know. "You looked rather pensive so we decided to give you some time and space to think."

"He knows."

"About the suit? Yes, he told me. And no, I didn't tell him."

Bruce chuckled faintly. "It is odd. For years no one saw through the deception and then two mages uncover my secrets almost effortlessly."

Hermione snorted softly. "Not effortlessly! It's just that Harry and I have lots of experience being paranoid and digging deep. It is standard operating procedure for us."

Bruce looked down at the curly head resting against his bicep. He could feel the curve of her hip and thigh pressing against his leg.

As much as he hated to admit it, Potter was right. He wrapped an arm across her shoulders, hugging her to him. She turned easily under his arm, almost plastering herself against him. And the oddest thing was he did not feel the slightest inclination to re-establish his personal space. After a brief struggle he sighed mentally and gave in.

'Choose for yourself. Choose what your heart desires, not what you feel you must do for others.'

It would not hurt to try Potter's advice. Just as an experiment.

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

TBC…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those wondering about the interaction between Harry and Bruce near the end… Harry hasn't seen Hermione for ages and gets this bombshell dropped on him. He spends more time reassuring himself she is okay and aware of the cons, observing the stability and depth of her relationship before making his move to warn-threaten Bruce. Just like any big brother. And like any sensible wizard he does it just before leaving so he doesn't have to listen to her nag/rant/screech too much about his Neanderthal actions and she doesn't get the chance to lay it on him.


	7. A Scots Witch in Gotham

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Minerva McGonagall decides to visit her old student in Gotham and is surprised, but not unpleasantly so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning. Graphic intimate scenes mid-chapter.

Harry Potter picked up a Muggle-style heavy-stock envelope tucked in his pile of correspondence. A brief glance confirmed its origins: Hermione in Gotham. For a brief second he glanced at the pile of reports to be read and was torn between playing hooky and ploughing through the reports. Playing hooky won.

A brass letter opener ripped the envelope open along one edge and impatient fingers tugged the folded sheet of expensive letter paper out and unfolded it. It only took a few minutes for him to get the gist of the contents.

He dumped the more sensitive reports into his bottomless filing drawer and murmured a keyed locking charm before he grabbed his grey-blue heavy-weight winter robes and thrust his arms into the sleeves as he ran out.

"Sandy, reschedule my appointments for today and tomorrow! If anyone asks I'm visiting Headmistress McGonagall on a personal matter! Unless it is an Omega case let Neville handle anything that comes up!"

~o~

Minerva McGonagall re-read the letter sent by one of her favourite and most successful witches for the seventh time. The news it contained was both joyous and disconcerting. Was Hermione really certain about her plans? She hadn't mentioned any of it in her other correspondence. Was she being threatened or blackmailed?

A soft gong rang indicating someone was waiting for the gargoyle door guardian to step aside. The Headmistress glanced at a mirror that blurred before producing an image of the corridor just outside her office entrance. A mature wizard with messy black hair and rimless rectangular glasses dressed in tailored slate-blue robes. She tapped the knick-knack controlling the guardian and waited for Mr Potter to join her.

"Headmistress McGonagall."

"Mister Potter. Tea?"

He shook his head. "Something alcoholic would be better. Did you get a letter from Hermione?"

Minerva felt her hands tremble imperceptibly. "Yes." Firmly she poured two fingers of Firewhiskey into two shot glasses and handed one to her old student. She took a small sip of the alcohol before continuing.

"She said that she was getting married. To a Muggle!" Minerva was distraught. "An American businessman!"

Harry rolled his glass between his hands, green eyes very intense.

"Sit down Minerva, it is a long story." Once they were settled he continued. "Did Hermione tell you anything about the Wayne's? Or why she went to Gotham?"

Minerva shook her head bewildered. "Not really. I understood she had a lot of old business matters to take care of. Ever since she became the McInnes Head she has been either doing research or travelling to renew or end old business ties."

Harry nodded. "You are partially right. But there is another reason why Hermione was so busy since she discovered her lineage."

"What?"

"There was an old alliance contract with another family that is renewed by marriage. The clauses for breaking are very nasty. She was trying to figure a way around the agreement. Unfortunately she ran out of time."

Minerva went very still. "You mean the Muggle…"

"Is not really a Muggle. Technically he is a squib and the regent head of a Magical Family though he didn't know it. The Gotham Wayne's are descended from the Wemyss Clan, the family allied with the McInnes. From what I had understood they entered a private hand-fasting to fulfill the terms and end the contract. At the end of the year they had originally decided to go their own ways. But then I got this letter from Hermione saying she is going to marry Bruce Wayne for real at Christmas."

Minerva was silent for a while before she burst out. "Why didn't she tell me? I would have tried to help break that contract!"

Harry shrugged. "You know how Hermione is. She prefers to do the leg work herself and exhaust her usual research sources before asking for favours. The Goblins did a good job locating and eliminating most of the cadet branches from the potential candidates list."

Minerva absorbed the information. A witch she considered a daughter would be marrying an American at Christmas. She would only return for visits. She would not be marrying any of the wizards Minerva had taught and helped shape; she would be marrying a near stranger and living in a foreign land.

"Harry, tell me what you know about Bruce Wayne."

Harry relaxed into his chair and took a sip from his glass.

"First of all, do not dismiss him based on his public reputation for being a playboy or first impressions of him being a light head. Bruce Wayne has layers underneath the layers. He cultivates his image like Dumbledore acted like a dotty senile old man when he was in reality sharp as a tack. He has his reasons, mainly gold digging tarts and scandal seeking reporters. In his view it is easier to give them what they want so they'll stop looking for more dirt on him. He is sharp, arrogant, intelligent, ruthless, protective, compassionate, loyal, and iron-willed. He adopted and raised two orphaned boys, one is a university student and the other is still in high school. I actually watched him manoeuvre Hermione into conceding in several debates and discussions. He cannot do magic but he's learnt enough about magical theory to follow and counter Hermione when she rambles on about her latest project."

Minerva's eyes were very wide. She was impressed. "How long has he been studying magical theory?"

"Just a few months. Mainly through the family libraries and lectures from a few wizarding portraits. Wayne says Arithmancy, Runes, and Charms are easy enough to break down and analyze for someone trained in logic. He doesn't have any formal degrees but he's some kind of genius. He self-studies whatever interests him."

"Like Hermione." Minerva whispered.

"Like Hermione." Harry agreed.

There was a comfortable silence as the witch and wizard considered the information and the implications.

"Is she serious about him?"

"I don't know. But knowing Hermione I'd say yeah."

Minerva nodded absently. "I have never been to Gotham City. Do you know where the closest International Train Terminal is?"

"It's in Salem. If you want we can travel to Gotham together. I'm planning on going a few days early so I can talk to Wayne."

Minerva nodded more firmly. "That is very kind of you. Please contact me when you have made the arrangements. I will of course pay you back."

Harry snorted. "If you want to pay me back please put the Fear of God into Wayne. Give him the lecture and stern face you use whenever you caught us breaking curfew. It terrified me the first ten times before I got desensitized by repeat exposure. Besides, if I threaten, him Hermione will get angry."

The Headmistress of Hogwarts laughed.

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

Alfred opened one of the smallest of the three primary front doors. He was a tad curious to know who had somehow by-passed the electronic surveillance on the front gates and fences but knocked on the front door to announce his presence.

Dark eyes noted two individuals standing on the door step, one familiar male a few years older than Master Grayson and one very unfamiliar woman much older and close to his own age given the faint web of wrinkles lining her arresting face.

Strong almost-raw bones gave character and Alfred sensed she did not really need those gold rimmed rectangular frames shielding penetrating hazel green eyes. Dark brown hair streaked faintly with grey was secured into an old fashioned top knot in a vaguely Edwardian coif. Her clothes were as old fashioned: dated button-up black leather boots, a long flared maroon skirt and fitted jacket trimmed with black braids teamed with a cream blouse covered, with a brown felt cloak dusted with snow, the hood thrown back.

"Mister Potter."

The young gentleman smiled genially. He was wearing more modern winter gear consisting of a charcoal trench coat over navy blue wool pants and a grey-cream Argyle sweater over a light-blue shirt.

Alfred stepped back and accepted their outer wear. Once they were hanging in the cloak room he returned to the expected and not expected guests.

"Your luggage?" He inquired mildly.

Harry smiled mildly. "I'm not planning on staying this time Alfred. I have things to do but I will be back for the wedding. Minerva, this is Alfred Pennyworth, Wayne Manor's major domo. Alfred, this is Minerva McGonagall, she was the Head of Gryffindor House when Hermione and I were in school, now she is the Headmistress of Hogwarts. She wants to catch up with Hermione so I offered to drop her off."

Alfred blinked and turned to the stern prim looking soul. Alfred gained a very strong impression of unflappable nerves and high expectations.

"Mrs. McGonagall?" Alfred tested delicately.

She nodded once. "Missus is acceptable but most call me Professor or Headmistress. To be expected given that I've either taught them or am teaching one of their younger relatives or children."

Alfred bowed his head. "Very good, Professor McGonagall. Do you wish to be shown to a guest room to unpack or freshen up? Master Bruce and Miss McInnes are occupied at the moment but I will send someone to inform them of your presence." He turned to one of the archways in the foyer. Leaning against the wall was a teenage boy with dark hair and eyes dressed in faded jeans and a worn GCU red hoody. "Professor McGonagall, this is Timothy Drake, Master Bruce's younger ward. Master Timothy, this is Minerva McGonagall, Miss McInnes's old teacher. Would you please inform Master Bruce and Miss McInnes there are guests waiting for them?"

The teenage boy sighed. "Do I have to Alfred? You know Bruce doesn't like being interrupted; he'll make me run five extra laps. And last time Hermione threw a shoe at me."

Minerva McGonagall made a soft huffing sound. "Miss Granger is not the sort to let a guest wait without good reason."

Alfred blinked. "You are quite right Professor McGonagall; however it would be best if-."

"Nonsense!" She pulled out her wand. "Point me Hermione Granger McInnes!" A small orb of light shot out from the tip of her wand and darted off into the private wings of the house, up a set of curving stairs.

She ignored Alfred's sounds of protests and made her way determined to speak to one of her most favourite alumnus.

Alfred watched the determined Scots witch make her way with unerring accuracy towards the private reading room the whole household knew to avoid at this time of the day.

"What didn't you say to Minerva?" Harry Potter inquired in slightly wary tones.

Tim smirked. "Let's just say she's going to be getting quite a show Harry. Right now Bruce and Hermione are-."

"Tend to be quite amorous this time of the day." Alfred interrupted firmly, giving a hard look at his youngest charge. "Master Bruce has other business later in the night so they try to have some private time in the early evening."

The English wizard blinked. "You mean they are…" He trailed off.

"Yes." Alfred spoke in repressive tones.

The green eyed man snorted softly his shoulders quivering faintly. "Did you ever walk-."

"Yes." Alfred gave the English wizard a hard look.

"And me and Dick and Babs." Tim added in more cheerful tones. "It was a bit of a shock. Bruce is usually so repressive even when he had girlfriends over you'd never know. With Hermione we've learnt the hard way to avoid looking for them before dinner."

Harry Potter considered the information and smiled. "Look at it this way mates… it's nothing Professor McGonagall hasn't seen before. She's broken up quite a few broom closet make-out sessions in her time."

Alfred sighed as Tim burst into fresh snorts of laughter.

~o~

Minerva McGonagall followed the bouncing orb of light guiding her to her old student. Along the way she couldn't help but be impressed by the subdued elegance and quiet but refined taste used in decorating at least the public areas of Wayne Manor: wood panelling, plush carpets, expensive but touchable furnishings, artworks worth a fortune, inviting nooks. Firmly she repressed her urges to explore the manor; she was here to talk to Hermione, not to sate her curiosity.

Finally the orb of light paused before a heavy carved door and darted through the panel.

Minerva frowned and knocked firmly on the wood. It was quiet. Too quiet. Concerned she tried to open the door but it would not budge. Concerned she cast a finite at the door and almost immediately she heard what she didn't hear before.

A soft feminine moan. "Bruce stop it! Gods please… Don't!"

The Scots witch did not hesitate. She immediately she cast her strongest unlocking charm at the door and blasted it open, ready to defend her old student.

And froze at the tableau before her.

Spread out on the backless chaise lounge in just a bottle green skirt hiked up almost to her waist was a very familiar brunette. Her head was tossed back against the high curved arm, curls flowing messily over the chocolate leather upholstery. Both hands were in the grasp of one large hand belonging to the man bent over her, pinned against the chaise just above her head.

He was kneeling on the other side of the chaise before the fire, his free hand running up the outside of one restlessly moving leg, under the green fabric, his face bent over her exposed throat, lips brushing against the hollow at the base of her neck.

He lifted his head, releasing his grip on Hermione's hands, shifting slightly to rise easily. Minerva could clearly see he was quite an attractive specimen, the type who would easily draw both male and female eyes. Black, short, wavy hair; penetrating, dark eyes; chiselled, strong features; broad, powerful shoulders and arms; and a very sculpted torso framed by the unbuttoned and untucked cream, pressed shirt. Thankfully his camel-coloured pressed pants were untouched; only the belt was unbuckled and hanging free from the loops. They hadn't gotten that far.

Then Minerva heard her old student squeak, "Professor McGonagall!" before rolling off the chaise lounge to land on the thick rug with a soft thud.

The younger witch scrambled around on her hands and knees for her clothes before thrusting her arms into the sleeves of a white blouse haphazardly.

Minerva did not blush. She had walked in on too many intimate encounters to be phased but this was the first time she had walked in on Hermione Granger in such a state of dishabille!

"Forgive me Miss Granger, I misunderstood what I heard and thought you were in danger." The Headmistress apologized in formal correct tones. "Mister Potter is waiting below. If you and your young man would join us?"

She stepped back and closed the door firmly before retreating down the corridor the way she had come. By the time she reached the foyer she had firmly pushed her embarrassment aside in favour of ire; ire against that young man who did not warn her.

But he punctured her balloon of self-righteous wrath.

"I tried to tell you."

Minerva sagged. It was the truth. She hadn't given him or Mister Pennyworth the time to explain why they were reluctant to inform Miss Granger of her arrival.

"Never mind. They will be joining us soon enough." She turned to the butler who could not quite hide the amusement gleaming in dark eyes. Minerva couldn't help but smile as well remembering how Hermione had reacted; like a guilty school girl. "Mister Pennyworth, perhaps some tea would be in order?"

The butler bowed shallowly. "Of course Professor McGonagall. Do you have any preference?"

Minerva thought briefly. "Do you have Oolong?"

"Of course. And Mister Potter?"

"Earl Grey Alfred."

"Very good. If you would show the Professor to the Sage Sitting Room…"

"I'll do it Alfred." Tim volunteered gleefully.

"Very good Master Timothy."

~o~

Hermione arched higher, lifting her hips off the leather covered chaise. Her lover took full advantage of her action, pushing her tight skirt up past her hips, exposing her rather utilitarian bikini-cut, black, cotton panties. She giggled inwardly, certain it was something exotic and rare for Bruce who had dated some of the most beautiful and sophisticated women on the planet. And when her confidence faltered she reminded herself he was not with any of them but her! Hermione Jean Granger McInnes. Sure neither of them had planned for this, but they had chosen to commit, to marry and stay together, to give this their best shot.

She hissed when hard, callused fingers slipped under the elastic edge of the pants and brushed against her wet slit. Reflexively her legs clenched together, trapping the hand between her thighs.

He chuckled darkly above her and levered her limbs apart before thrusting his fingers into her, curling them just so to stroke a particular spot.

She cried out and came apart under his hands. She fell back against the chocolate leather sweaty and dazed as those wonderful wicked fingers withdrew from her. Heavy, dark lashes lifted as strong, thick fingers brushed against the scalloped edge of her black bra, dipping inside towards the aching points but avoiding direct contact.

She inhaled sharply when he slipped his hands into the cups and roughly readjusted the material so her breasts were resting outside them on display for his eyes and hands, constrained by the material, bands and straps under and around the outside.

She could not resist arching towards him when the callused fingers played with the sensitive tips, rebuilding her arousal.

"Bruce…"

"Yes?" he murmured in low harsh tones. Batman's voice.

Fresh warmth gushed between her legs. She shifted towards the edge of the chaise, to sit up and get closer to him.

"No."

She cried out as he gripped her hands in his and pinned them above her head, forcing her spine to arch over the armrest, bringing her breasts into greater prominence. And then she could not think at all once he bent to pay a great deal of attention to her breasts with his mouth, tongue and teeth.

It felt like her nipples were directly connected to her clit. She could not stop herself from coming hard a second time. Every muscle in her body was lax with satiation but she couldn't help but feel empty. She needed more. She needed him, his strength, his flesh inside her.

She stirred. "Bruce."

He shifted his head to brush a kiss against her shoulder. "Hermione." And then he was tracing a path of moist kisses across her collarbone to the hollow between her collarbones.

His free hand was under her waistband, cupping her core, stroking her wet slit. Hermione shifted restlessly. She was too frayed to come again so soon.

"Bruce stop it!"

"Do you really want me to?" he murmured against her throat as his fingers dipped into her again.

"Gods please…" Hermione begged uncertain of exactly what she was begging for. Did she want him to stop or to speed up? She twisted on the chaise trying to get closer.

He chuckled throatily. "Should I stop?" He asked softly.

"Don't!"

His response was to bite hard enough to leave a red mark on her collarbone.

His hand slipped out of her panties and towards her hip, curling under the elastic waistband to tug it down when the door slammed open and hit the doorstop with a loud bang.

He tensed, shifting his weight to launch against the intruder standing in the doorway. An older woman in her late fifties dressed in old-fashioned clothes, button-up black leather boots, a flared maroon skirt and fitted jacket trimmed in black. Grey-streaked dark brown tresses were twisted in an old-fashioned bun. Her features were stern and uncompromising, accented by the gold rimmed rectangular glasses. Given the wand she held in her right hand she had to be a wand witch. He rose from his knees, to distract her from Hermione and give her a bigger target in case she was a real threat. In the time she engaged him Bruce was certain Hermione could easily take her out.

Out the corner of his eye he saw his lover angle her head to see the intruder.

"Professor McGonagall!"

And then she twisted ungracefully, rolling off the chaise to land on the side away from the intruder. Given how she was scrambling for her blouse than her wand Professor McGonagall was not a threat. At least not to Hermione.

Inwardly he sighed and said goodbye to his chances for a pre-dinner romp.

"Forgive me Miss Granger, I misunderstood what I heard and thought you were in danger." Professor McGonagall apologized in formal correct tones. "Mister Potter is waiting below. If you and your young man would join us?"

She stepped back and closed the door firmly leaving Bruce and Hermione alone.

Hermione was blushing hotly. She had managed to get her arms into the sleeves and two buttons done.

"Oh Merlin! I feel like a guilty teenager caught making out in a broom closet!" she moaned.

Bruce smirked. "Would you be interested in exploring some of Wayne Manor's broom closets with me?"

She hit him with a clenched fist but her response was more agreeable.

"Maybe. When there is no one in the Manor. But first we have to clean up and see Minerva." He nuzzled her throat. She blushed but refused to be side-tracked and pushed him away. "As quickly as possible so forget about getting a quickie."

~o~

The English visitors and other residents of Wayne Manor did not have to wait too long in the Sage Sitting Room. Minerva had time for half a cup of tea and a scone when the Master of the Manor and her old student arrived.

Hermione had found the time to change into a navy-blue wrap-around dress with elbow-length bell sleeves and black open toed Muggle high-heeled shoes. Her wand was openly displayed in a dragon-hide holster on her right forearm. Brown curling tresses were hastily drawn up in a knot secured by two picks with small curls escaping along her hairline. The man standing just behind her was dressed in light brown dress pants with a navy-and-cream Argyle sweater over a white shirt. He stood protectively close to Hermione, one hand hovering over her waist and around the small of her back as he guided Hermione into the room and smiled charmingly before making introductions and small talk.

Minerva was amused by the way the younger witch shifted on her loveseat trying to avoid meeting her eyes, a rose blush staining creamy skin. The witch was acting like a student caught by a teacher. A faint smirk curled thin lips.

"Miss Granger!"

Harry and Hermione stiffened and sat up straight, feet together in an ingrained response to the familiar sharp voice and drill-sergeant cadences.

The verbal response was also automatic. "Yes Professor?"

Minerva chuckled softly. "I'm not your teacher Hermione, and you haven't been an underage student for a long while. In fact I should be apologizing for barging in on you and your young man."

The younger witch relaxed almost imperceptibly. "I know Minerva. It's just that…" She trailed off mortified by the topic of conversation.

Minerva smirked and sipped her tea. "You know Hermione I've caught almost every single Hogwarts alumni out of bounds with their significant other at one point in time during their school years. You are one of the few exceptions. I'm not sure if it was because you had good warding charms or made better plans."

Hermione blushed deeply and mumbled something that only Bruce Wayne heard. It made him chuckle and lift the small hand held in his much larger one to his lips.

"It takes a very mature soul to see future potential Hermione. I'm not surprised you were overlooked, teenage boys are not the most discerning or perceptive beings."

"Mister Wayne is quite right Hermione." Minerva spoke briskly. "And I do remember Victor Krum was one of those mature discerning souls. He did ask you of all the witches to the Yule Ball."

Hermione blinked. "But that's because he didn't want to give any of the Quidditch groupies an excuse to latch onto him!"

Minerva raised a brow. "Correct. And tell me, who looked past his reputation, wealth and fame to treat him as any other wizard? Who saw he was intelligent and good in academics? Who recognized he was just as skilled off the Quidditch pitch, and respected him for his intellectual abilities?"

Hermione opened her mouth to argue then shut it. She couldn't disagree because Minerva was right.

The Headmistress smirked. And then she focused sharp hazel eyes on the man sitting next to her favourite student. She could see it, glimpses of true warmth and steel through the bland public mask, the softness when he looked at Hermione.

"And I see you have done it again Hermione; seen past the surface façade to trawl through hidden depths." She noted the imperceptible stiffness and blandly sipped her tea before continuing. "Do not bother protesting Mister Wayne. Hermione would never have agreed to make this hand-fasting a permanent union if she didn't see something in you."

Bruce Wayne pinned Minerva with a chilly, unnerving glare but the elder witch did not quail. She had been through too much to collapse under a wordless threat. Besides if he were the type to kill without good reason Hermione would never have agreed to marry him. So she turned to her old student and smiled encouragingly.

"Why don't you tell me about it? Harry gave me the general story but he's not very good with details."

Hermione looked very relieved before she began speaking clearly and concisely using technical terms that went over everyone else's head. Minerva listened and ate and drank tea and occasionally made requests for clarification or details. At the end of it the Headmistress had a more detailed understanding of the family backgrounds, including the Pact and clauses, and the hand fasting set up by Robert Wayne.

Minerva nibbled on the cucumber dainty. Mister Pennyworth was quite a culinary artist; these were nearly as good as sandwiches prepared by the Hogwarts House Elves. She sipped on her third cup of Oolong organizing her thoughts before speaking.

"Hand-fasting using bonding bracelets is an old tradition; there is a set in my own family. They are rarely used nowadays and only with the consent of both parties involved. Heirloom bonding bracelets are impossible to break without heavy cost."

The young, curly-haired woman leaning against the dark haired, older man sitting next to her nodded in agreement.

"So we learned. Bruce and I visited Salem Gringotts and we were told quite firmly it might be possible to destroy the bracelets but only when they aren't active. Trying to break the bond will only draw more magic from the users."

"And I know of the Wemyss clan." Minerva admitted after some thought. "A maternal grand-aunt married Hadrian Wemyss. They had one child, a squib daughter who died in childbirth. There was some rumour the clan was cursed, nothing confirmed."

Hermione snorted softly. "Do you honestly believe any family would openly admit they are cursed because of an ancient Blood Pact? No… anyone with brains would hide the facts rather than risk the Ministry interfering with their rigid idiotic rules."

Minerva sighed. "True. May I examine the bracelets? Yours first?"

Hermione nodded and thrust out her left wrist displaying the broad band of engraved silver wrapped around her wrist. The older witch examined the metal and engravings, making notes on a paper transfigured from fallen rose petals. She cast several spells at the band causing visible and unperceived reactions. Then she repeated the process on the band around Bruce's wrist. Finally she gave her verdict.

"The bands do not create emotion that doesn't exist; magic that induces artificial love and desire is illegal and in the darker areas of grey magic. Even the anxiety component that draws the two of you together is the amplified natural fear of being alone, abandoned. It sets up the environment so the two of you stay close. Any emotion you feel towards each other is simply the result of spending time together; just natural attraction aided by the enforced intimacy and the natural desire to be close to someone."

Bruce frowned. "You mean if one of us was truly committed to another…"

"You would be drawn to that person as well. It would create a triangle. It is one of the main reasons why hand-fasting bracelets are no longer commonly used. They created quite a few socially awkward situations."

There was a pause while everyone considered the legal and social conundrum such a binding would cause.

"Am I correct in assuming that is not the situation in this case?"

Hermione shook her head. "You are correct Minerva." Then she smiled more warmly. "It took a while before we decided to make a genuine go of it. I like Bruce. He is a difficult man to understand and love but I respect him. I would greatly appreciate it if you would stand up with me Minerva."

Minerva McGonagall blinked taken aback by the request. She had not expected to be asked to participate in the wedding ceremony.

"I would be honoured. Is it going to be magical or Muggle?"

This time it was Bruce who answered.

"A private civil ceremony at City Hall. It will take too much time to organize a large society affair but we will hold a reception in January."

Hermione smiled warmly. "Do stay Minerva. It will be wonderful to catch up on what's happening in Britain. Harry tends to leave out social details."

The wizard in question protested. "Hey!"

Minerva chuckled. "He does tend to be short-sighted." She raised an arch brow. "He still is when it comes to personal relationships."

Harry grumbled. "I know I'm not going to win so I won't bother fighting." He stood up and moved to brush kisses against a wrinkled cheek and a smooth soft one. "I should get going now. I have a meeting in Seattle. I will be back on the twenty-sixth for the wedding. If I need a suit Galluchi in Illumina Square has my measurements. Just put it on my tab."

Hermione smiled. "Of course Harry." She eyed him sternly. "Don't you dare get caught up in work!"

Harry laughed and brushed a second kiss against her cheek. "Of course not! It won't do for me to be too late to give away my sister."

She eyed him carefully. "Just keep that in mind."

He smirked and took two steps back before vanishing soundlessly.

Minerva sighed. "Hermione, you really must ward the property. Once the local enclaves find out you're married and a resident there will be hordes of busy-bodies and reporters descending like locusts."

Bruce looked pensive. "I've been putting it off." He admitted. "I was hoping to use Hermione's current project to set up permanent ward defences."

Minerva frowned. "You can set up a few temporary layers, to at least delay intruders and set off alarms. Or you may wish to move to a more public home closer to Muggles. Most would think twice about potentially making a scene and being arrested."

Bruce glanced at Hermione who gave a tiny shrug. Then he turned to look at the Headmistress with a thoughtful considering expression. "We'll think about it."

And then the conversation turned to lighter and more personal matters.

~o~

Long after dinner and the entire household had retired for the night, the moonlight cast shifting shadows on the heavy quilted covers covering the two occupants of the massive bed in the Master Suite. Callused blunt-tipped fingers absently combed through brown curls spilling over the pillows.

Hermione made a soft sound as she snuggled closer, shifting until she was fitted into the planes of his body, one strong arm holding her close. She felt him brush a kiss against her temple.

"Your old teacher is quite a character."

Hermione couldn't help but laugh. "Goddess Bruce, that's like saying the Mona Lisa is a pretty painting!"

She felt him smile and absently stroke her bare shoulder damp with perspiration from their recent activities.

"I'm assuming she is going to be staying until the wedding." Bruce murmured.

"Yes. And you will have to be careful. If you and the boys are going patrolling you might want to stay in town over night." Hermione warned her lover. "Minerva has a nose for trouble. And you have no idea how much trouble students in a magical boarding school can get into after hours. The teachers and prefects conduct regular late-hour patrols and Minerva is very good at catching students out in the corridors after lights out. Only Professor Snape had a better record."

"How?" Bruce was intrigued. "Some sort of magic?"

"In a sense. Professor Snape was a spy and a Dark Arts Master; he developed his sixth sense and instinct for intruders and trouble. Minerva is an Animagus; she can shape-shift into a cat."

"And cats can get into small places and are almost undetectable." Bruce concluded. "Does she carry over some of a cat's senses?"

"I don't think so but do you really want to risk her finding out?"

"Would Potter tell her?"

"Harry? No. But if she knows and asks him he will not lie. The best we can expect is for Harry to refuse to answer."

"But that alone would confirm some of her suspicions."

"Yes. But it is only for one week Bruce. I'll try to keep her busy doing the tourist thing and visiting other enclaves on the Eastern Seaboard. After the wedding I'm certain she will leave. She does have other family to see over the Hols. If we visit during the summers I'm sure she is less likely to visit Gotham."

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

Minerva McGonagall watched with a faint smile as the seamstress witch made the final adjustments on the expensive, custom creation of cream brocade silk, spider-silk lace and gossamer veils. It was a cross between Muggle and wizarding; a lined and embellished heavy outer robe with a stand-up collar that framed her face, a plunging neckline and fitted bodice closed with silk frogs and long slightly puffed sleeves. Below the empire bust-line the skirt flared open to the floor and formed a train behind her over a slim fitting under dress with skirts that frothed below the thigh and fell to the floor in slashed panels that bared toned legs that ended in gold gladiator sandals laced up with gold cord.

In wizarding tradition Hermione was completely nude beneath the 'petticoat' dress and the robe. The only jewellery she wore were gifts from her betrothed, pearl tear drops and a string of pearls and the hand fasting band. In wizarding tradition the bride had to wear the same outfit to the wedding bed; in the old days, weddings were held after dinner and any receptions and parties were held the next day. To honour that tradition, Hermione and Bruce would be Portkeying to Wayne Manor for their honeymoon seclusion directly after the ceremony. In private, Hermione had told Minerva that Bruce was wealthy enough to travel several times a year to see all Hermione could ever desire; but right now what she really wanted was to spend time alone with her husband in their own home. And they would since Tim, Drake and Mister Pennyworth would be going on a short skiing trip in Aspen and staying a few weeks in one of the condos Bruce Wayne owned in Gotham City.

Minerva's mind drifted back to her thoughts on the groom. She had been reluctantly impressed by his smooth tongue, subtle will, hidden intelligence and resolute grit. It had been a shock witnessing his playboy act in a five-star Muggle restaurant, his vacuous mask donned when he interacted with the general public, be it business competitors, gold-digging tarts, posh totties, scandal-seeking paparazzi, fawning restaurant employees, or star-struck celebrity watchers.

If she had seen him in public for the first time that evening Minerva would have written him off as a shallow, selfish berk. But she had not. Minerva had seen him first in the company of her old favoured student and knew he was a very good match for Hermione; he looked after his own very fiercely and cared for Hermione. Minerva would miss her old student but knew Bruce Wayne was honourable in the most traditional sense of the word; he was also taciturn and tight-lipped but Hermione was determined and strong-willed enough to get her own way, to make him stop and listen to her.

~o~

Harry knocked lightly on the door of the ladies room commandeered for the bride. They were really lucky City Hall was next to dead due to the Hols. The door opened and the familiar face of his old teacher appeared. Minerva was dressed in royal blue robes edged in silver over a dark purple dress. Her hair was up in a more modish twist but there were additional decorations, a pale peach rose and white baby's breath with a few ferns pinned along side one side with a few diamante pins securing the up-do.

"Come in Mr Potter. Hermione is almost ready."

Then she stepped back, allowing Harry to enter the small room and close the door behind him. As he waited patiently in his bottle green robes over black pants and vest he watched the hired witch put the last touches of make-up on Hermione and remembered. He remembered how Bruce treated her, like fragile porcelain. Except when he forgot and she gave him as good as she got. The surprised, impressed and acknowledging responses from Bruce whenever he forgot to control his reactions. He treated her far better than Ron -than most patriarchal hide-bound traditionalist wizards- had ever treated Hermione. He never said it out loud in Harry's hearing but the younger man knew words were only confirmation of reality. And though Hermione was not a girly-type she was still female. And despite his reputation as a ladies man, Bruce also had to be reminded of that.

~ooOoo~

"What are you waiting for?"

Dark eyes were like polished stone, cool and fathomless. "Excuse me?"

Harry rested his chin on the back of his curled hand and cocked his head. "I don't have to look very hard to see what is happening… You are dancing around each other."

Wayne frowned faintly. "I'm afraid I'm not certain of what you mean."

Harry made an impatient sound and sat up straighter. "You heard me right the first time Wayne. You and Hermione… you are dancing around each other; a brief brushing interaction before you recoil and withdraw for a circling circuit. And you are drawn to each other; almost inevitably. Why are you bothering with a formal arrangement if you don't want to commit?"

Wayne stiffened. "I would not be marrying her if I was not serious."

Harry gave him an impatient look of amused tolerance. "There is a difference between a legal ceremony and an emotional commitment. Wayne, if you are not prepared to make the latter, don't bother with the former."

The older man was quiet. "I want to. It is just hard…" He trailed off looking away, his eyes distant and unfocused.

Harry made a soft understanding sound. "Lost many? Family, friends, lovers, allies, strangers, enemies? You aren't the only one Wayne. As long as there is free will you won't be the last one either. You can fight to reduce the loss and cost but it is inevitable. And you can't focus on those you feel you failed, you have to remember those you saved and those who you will save. If you don't you'll drive yourself into the ground."

Harry smiled internally at the surprised, reconsidering expression. "Oh yeah, my life is a practical text book for disaster and factional in-fighting. You should thank your stars you had someone like Alfred to protect you when you were young, someone who was willing to tell you the truth and let you make your own choices." Harry made a face remembering his own childhood and teenage years. "Hermione was one of the first to push me to stand on my own two feet, to take control. I didn't like the tactics she used but her methods worked. I never would have survived my fourth year in Hogwarts without her."

Wayne looked more thoughtful. "The Triwizard Tournament." He murmured softly. "Hermione mentioned you were one of the contestants… an unwilling one."

"Yes. Hermione drilled me like an army sergeant training a raw recruit. Without her extra tutoring, the dragon in the First Task would have killed me." Harry's expression turned more earnest. "She did a lot for me and for dozens of other students. Everyone knew if you needed help you could ask Hermione. It is too easy to take advantage of her because she genuinely wants to help. It wasn't until after the Horcrux Hunt and Last Battle that she put her foot down and started demanding favours in exchange for her help. She developed a very impressive network of contacts in the Rebuilding; it helped in forming her reputation as an Advocate to avoid angering. She expanded that network internationally before moving into Unspeakable Research and later on Hit Witch training."

Wayne nodded his head slowly and made a 'go-on' gesture. Encouraged, Harry continued.

"Hermione doesn't need words, gushing praise or admiration for everything she does perfectly because she is pretty much a perfectionist and rather impatient with people most of the time. But even so, she is a girl and girls do occasionally like to hear words of appreciation and admiration." Harry smirked. "If you piss her off don't bother trying to buy her forgiveness with jewellery; she'll just throw it at your head. Be prepared to grovel if you haven't accumulated any brownie points with her because she can hold a mean grudge; I mean they call me the Dark Lord Slayer and I tremble when Hermione is in a snit." The smirk broadened into a grin at Bruce's pained expression. "Unless I'm mistaken, you should have either witnessed or experienced Hermione in a snit by now."

Bruce winced and nodded. "Yes. She made her views quite… clear. It was distracting and rather painful."

Harry made a sympathetic sound. "What did she do? She soaked the linings of all my boots in some potion that made my feet itch. I had to wear new unbroken boots on a two-week stakeout. It was not fun. And I swear she made my paperwork vanish. I completed three sets that went missing before I gave up and apologized."

"She cast some sort of dyslexia hex on the property. I had to stay in town to do any work. Alfred refused to join me so I had to pick up after myself and do all the household chores in the penthouse; there was too much sensitive information and tools to contract a cleaning service. And then she did something to the suit." Wayne glowered slightly. "I don't know what she did or how she got access to it but I swear she hexed it. I couldn't do a complete four hour patrol. After two hours I had to strip out of it."

Harry hmmed. "Sounds familiar. She used a similar charm on Team Seven to make sure we'd bath and change clothes regularly when in the field." Harry grinned. "It's too easy to just use Scourgify and reduce time wasted and dirty laundry."

Wayne snorted softly. Harry just shrugged.

"Hey, that's Hermione for you. She tries talking to your face, if you ignore her she goes about getting her way via indirect means." His expression turned serious. "But that's exactly what she is like Wayne. She has the confidence and experience to have her own views and willingness to push them through. She doesn't need your money or permission to do anything. Push too hard and she'll drop you like a rock; she did that with most wizards who tried to turn her into a trophy girlfriend."

Black eyes were very steady as they met green. "I'm not looking for a trophy wife but someone who can thrive in Gotham without letting fear take over."

Harry nodded. "Then Hermione is definitely the one for you. She is not the sort to back down from anyone no matter how much older, wealthy or socially higher they were compared to her." His expression turned serious. "She is my sister, my friend, my protector, my shield, my ally, my partner… She always stood by me without hesitation when others fled afraid or abandoned me. When I acted like an idiot, she was the first to cut me down to size; when she disagreed she would say so up front; when I break and fall I know she will catch me. She is my family in every way that matters."

Wayne's expression was thoughtful and understanding. "I understand. I will never attempt to keep her from her brother."

Harry blinked and smiled faintly.

"Wayne, if you ever tried to order Hermione around without a bloody good reason it'd be the last thing you'd ever say to her."

~ooOoo~

Bright hazel eyes turned to him. Harry's breath caught at the almost luminous expression of glowing joy he saw in her face. He inhaled and smiled.

"I don't have to ask huh."

A faint furrow creased her brow. "What?"

Harry waved a hand. "If you really want to marry him. You are almost glowing with happiness. You want this."

Painted lips curved in a faint knowing smile. "Oh yes Harry. I want to marry Bruce."

Harry nodded. "Okay then." He took two steps until he was standing in front of her. He lifted one arm, elbow bent, forearm parallel to the ground. "Let's get you married then."

Hermione laughed and placed one small hand on the crook of his elbow before accepting the bouquet of herbs and flowers held out by Minerva.

"Yes. Let's."

~o~

Bruce tapped a finger against the neatly pressed navy blue wool blend material stretched over his thighs. Absently his feet shifted, to allow him to rise from the chair without any delay. He glanced around the private Justice of Peace office being used for the ceremony. There was an expectant hush in the air but no real doubt or concerns from most of those present: Lucius, Alfred, Tim, Dick, and Barbara.

Absently Bruce allowed his thoughts to drift back, to the first moment when he gave serious consideration to the thought of a more permanent relationship with Hermione. Odd the one responsible for binding the two of them together was also the one to change his personal belief that Batman could only be effective as a bachelor; that a family and children would interfere in his quest.

~ooOoo~

"How are you getting along with the MacInnes Daughter?"

Bruce glanced up from his short hand notes on Arithmancy event theory. If he could write a program incorporating these elements it would be most helpful in predicting criminal activity.

"What do you mean Robert?"

The portrait of Robert Bruce Wayne made an impatient sound. "You heard me right the first time grandson."

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose and breathed through his mouth. "We are getting along just fine."

Robert cocked his head. 

"Getting along just fine? Just where? The ballroom? Library? Dining room? Bedroom?" The portrait chortled at the hard glare levelled in his direction. "From your reaction am I accurate in surmising there are very few conflicts in the bedroom?" Robert inquired in arch tones.

Bruce did not bother to respond but Robert was not dissuaded. After a few minutes of silence he spoke.

"What is stopping you Bruce?"

The living Wayne did not look up. "Stopping me?"

"What is stopping you from living, from marrying and having a family?"

Bruce put his pen down and looked up to glare at the portrait with cold hard eyes.

"Long ago I decided that was not an option for me. I cannot put a woman I care for through the agony of losing me."

"Losing you? Death is inevitable grandson, it comes to each and everyone of us, and sooner or later we all die!"

Nostrils flared. "My death is almost certain to be more violent and premature due to my night time activities."

"Because you have chosen to be a Protector of Gotham? A feudal lord of old who takes out destructive interlopers in single combat?" The portrait made a scoffing sound. "You underestimate the resiliency of women Bruce! They are the stronger sex and far more capable of handling stress and change. In my time, the female head of the household was expected to be capable of managing the land when the male relatives were away or at war. Even before that, many great estates were managed by women; mothers, daughters and widows when the men were away at war or dead."

Bruce glared at the portrait. "I don't want Hermione to go through the pain of losing a husband to violence."

"You are a fool grandson! She has experienced that loss and pain, though not at your hands just yet, though you might be the next person to deal that blow to her."

"What do you mean?"

"How do you think she felt when she saw her friends die? When she sent her parents away to save them? When she left her allies behind chasing a slim thread of hope? When she discovered her first love was not as true as she? When the man she loved was killed and her parents disavowed her? Did she allow that fear to chain her? To keep her from living and loving and caring? Of course not! She fought! She still fights!"

Bruce opened his mouth then shut it. Robert did have a point. Hermione herself said she chose celibacy only because she did not find someone who she was attracted to who could also look after himself. Most of her colleagues and allies were friends and family of choice. And she was very attached to Potter who definitely had a dangerous job if he tracked the likes of Ras al'Ghul down.

Then he remembered what the younger man had said the day he revealed he knew Bruce Wayne was Batman.

"Hermione is one of the most loyal and trustworthy people I know. She would do anything for her loved ones … I've never met another as strong and capable and willing to draw the line and stand her ground … She is one of the few souls who see me for myself, a human being trying to do the best I can … I know she will never let go and watch me fall. If you trust her with yourself, you will never be betrayed; you will always be in safe hands. She does not know how to give up."

Bruce discovered most of his arguments were based on faulty premises. "She has friends and family in Europe." It was a rather weak point.

"And women have always been the ones to leave their childhood homes to follow their husbands to whichever land he chooses. There are several magical enclaves on the East Coast. You'll have to adjust to interacting in a different culture but she can easily make new friends and business contacts in America."

"Gotham is dangerous. The Rogues will fixate on her if she is associated with me."

Robert snorted softly. "And what exactly did she do to The Joker?"

"The elites from the upper strata of Gotham society are vicious towards outsiders."

"She is a MacInnes; the women of that family don't let wealth or societies influence their choices. And if you get your head on straight she will be a Wayne."

Bruce was silent. Sensing he had the advantage Robert pressed on. "She is intelligent, strong-willed, and tolerant of your lifestyle, a self-proclaimed fighter. She is not a weak-minded chit or maid that needs constant protection. You get along well enough as well. She is not chasing you for your name or wealth. Any children will be attractive, intelligent and sharp with the two of you as parents. So tell me grandson, what is stopping you?"

After a long silence Bruce looked up and responded. "Nothing."

~ooOoo~

The sound of the door knob turning brought Bruce to the present. He looked up and couldn't stop the small smile curving his lips at what he saw.

Hermione stood just inside the heavy doors dressed in fitted cream brocade and lace robes with a high collar, long sleeves, and an empire waist that flowed open to the floor and behind her. Beneath she wore a fitted dress that flared and fell in wide panels to the floor. Her hair was braided up in a coronet with small escaping strands curling around her face. On her head she wore no veil, but a wreath of braided ivy and orange blossoms. The only jewellery she wore were his mother's string of pearls and the new pearl drops he gave her for her birthday. The silver hand-fasting band flashed on the wrist resting on Potter's arm, her free hand held a slender shaft of carved wood, her wand, against her thigh. As she stepped forward the skirts parted to reveal she wore no stockings and had chosen to wear gladiator sandals laced up her toned calves with gold cord.

Standing as matron-of-honour, was her old Headmistress Minerva McGonagall wearing royal blue robes over a purple under-dress. Her hair was styled in a softer, younger looking manner, with a peach rose and baby's breath pinned in her up-do. She was carrying a silver tray set with several small items representing the Elements. A brass incense burner, a fan made of white swan feathers, a crystal cup filled with water, a porcelain dish holding chips of precious and semi-precious stones.

Potter had chosen to wear traditional bottle green robes despite the non-magical surroundings and Bruce did not mind. He had chosen to have a small private ceremony so Hermione could incorporate some magical traditions.

Bruce heard the rustle of fabric as Lucius Fox shifted in his position next to him.

"Are you sure about this Bruce?" The older dark-skinned man asked quietly.

Bruce looked away from his bride and smiled at Lucius. "Very. Hermione is not a gold digger or a bimbo. Our relationship began in an unorthodox fashion but this is something we both want."

Lucius nodded slowly. It was not his role to interfere in his employer and friend's private life. That fell to Alfred, and since Alfred clearly had no concerns there was no real reason for Lucius to worry.

The Justice of Peace coughed discreetly drawing the attention of both businessmen. "Mister Wayne, do you wish to add a Blessing or a hand-fasting reaffirmation?" And he nearly quailed under the heavy penetrating eyes of the usually careless seeming businessman.

"What do you know…?" He trailed off warningly.

Andrew Peterson shook his head hastily. "I did not intend any offence Mister Wayne!" He glanced at the older confused dark-skinned man before deciding he'd take his chances with the Ministry than Bruce Wayne. A small fine was more tolerable than losing his job. "I'm a Justice of Peace but I am also a squib. When it came to the Ministry's attention you were marrying Miss Granger I was assigned to conduct the ceremony. So it can be dual registered with the enclaves." He glanced at the bride who was listening with a calm, curious expression and managed to sneak a peek at Harry Potter who looked a little scary with his glowering expression. "I would not have said anything if I didn't see the components for a Blessing and Miss Granger's wand."

He held his breath and watched the Muggle businessman look at his fiancée who nodded and glanced at the older witch holding the tray. He heaved a mental sigh of relief when the bride smiled at him and spoke.

"Thank you, it is very thoughtful of you. Minerva will be casting the Blessing."

The older witch carefully set the tray down on the side table and turned, drawing her own wand from her sleeve.

"I will also be reaffirming the hand-fasting. Hermione and Mister Wayne have decided on it being indefinite so long as both parties are agreeable."

Andrew Peterson nodded and opened a small, leather-bound book and watched as the participants and witnesses arranged themselves in a semi-circle with the couple standing directly in front of him.

He coughed softly before starting the ceremony.

"We are here to share a very important moment in the lives of Bruce Thomas Wayne and Hermione Jean McInnes, born Hermione Granger…"

~ooOoo~ooOoo~ooOoo~

The End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **No** sequel or filler chapters forthcoming. This is it. Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
